The Captor
by yougonnapayforthatmango
Summary: He has a cigarette between his full lips, blowing puffs of smoke into humid air. She glares at him, vowing that if she ever got out of the thick ropes that bound her, she'd pull it from his teeth and burn him with it. His golden hair was stiff with the sweat of dragging her around, from fighting her off more than once when he loosened her ties. AH Clace. Rated M for Lemons. OOC
1. Empty Apologies

The music of the club was numbing to her morals. Around her were the gyrating bodies of partygoers. It was kinda funny to see women and men throw themselves at one another. Almost as funny as Isabelle trying to teach Simon to dance. Sebastian was going on about the one time he fought someone, and Clary was sure Magnus and Alec were off in the bathroom doing what couples did when they were in love.

Her eyes skimmed the Pandemonium, seeing if anything interesting was happening for the others in the room. To see if anyone was as bored out of their minds as she was. The plan of going here wasn't very clear as Isabelle ordered them all in a taxi, having Clary dressed up like some escort with a tight black dress that hugged her skin. Sebastian couldn't take his eyes off her, even when she no longer cared to look back at him. They were probably trailing the length- _which was very short_ \- of her body, guessing what underwear she had on, or if she worn any at all.

With a wandering gaze, her eyes landed on the golden waves of a man walking through the club. He had a tight black v-neck on, showing off his spectacular muscles. The tattoos of intricate black lines didn't deter her from finding him interesting, though she wasn't one to fall for them. In fact, Jocelyn had chided her for taking an interest in the ink designs.

His jeans were either a navy blue or of the same black as his shirt and tattoos. He wasn't paying attention to the rest of the club and vise versa, making her wonder if she was the only one to see him. The probable explanation was that they were all too buzzed from the constant snorting and gulping of foreign substances to see him- _if they could see at all._

There was something about him that pulled at her like a moth to a flame. She could feel her thighs shake - urging her to go after him. To learn his name and engrave it into her blank mind. To grab his attention like he'd already done to hers, at least before someone prettier - _better_ \- got to him first. Already could Clary taste the jealousy that pooled in her mouth like venom. She _had_ to get to him.

 _"I swear to you, this dude must've been like six foot when he sat-"_ Sebastian was saying in her ear over the loud music. Clary's thoughts snapped into action as she turned to face him, her eyes wide.

"Hey, I'll be right back, I just have to check something, kay?" Clary said with a sweet but slightly timid smile. Sebastian nodded his head, likely watching her as she got up from her barstool and trailed after the golden-haired man. He had stopped in the middle of the club, looking around for something, so she _made_ herself that something. Being that others were around them, it was less obvious that she had been practically stalking him.

The music was carnal, all the more better to dance to. It wasn't as electronic - alternative if someone could label it that. Barely though.

Some people grabbed at her forearms, silently asking her to dance with them. A man with hair as dark as her instincts took hold of her arm, and seeing that she was so close to the man did she allow him to take hold of her hips. Isabelle had taught her how to move; how to impress someone or multiple someones with twirls of her body and nibbling of her lips. The man was silent as he moved with a surprising amount of skill. Had Clary not had her intentions set on the golden-haired man would she be intrigued by this one.

It made it easier to have his hands up her waist and settle at her sides, impressed with her competitive nature. She viewed dancing as a sort of introduction in situations like these. She mustn't show weakness, for weakness was disappointing and Clarissa Fairchild _wasn't_ disappointing.

Her eyes were nearly closed with the intoxication of primal instinct. Human nature. So blinded that she missed the part where she wandered farther from the man with dark hair and twirled close to her target. He was so still that he couldn't have expected her to stumble into him, trying to shake her off with annoyance until his eyes took in her lusty appearance.

" _Sorry_ ," Clary began with a sigh, moving away even with his interested expression. His fingers grabbed at her wrist so quickly that she didn't feel it switch it to her hip and have her sliding toward him. He dipped her without a word, staring at her intently and allowing a few seconds to pass before he grinned at her with a look in his eyes that scared her. With the flashing lights of the club, she noticed that his eyes were a stunning amber. A swirling of gold that burned her will away.

"What are you doing?" She asked, not able to hide the slight fear that hitched in her throat. His grin intensified as he slowly returned her to a standing position; his thumb flicking at her hip to remain close to him.

"See it as an apology." He shrugged before grabbing at her again and manipulating her body with his muscular arms and precision, matching his own moves. The way he danced with her was different than the other men, there was carelessness and even if he wasn't bad at all with his graceful movements, he didn't pay attention to her expressions. Especially as shocked as hers was.

"An apology?" She scoffed emptilly. A part of her was enjoying how dominant he was being with her. Not minding her as the fragile girl most had perceived her to be. As far as he was concerned, she was strong and sturdy enough to handle him.

"Wouldn't want you pitying me." He answered gruffly, stilling her for a moment so as she could feel him and only him; making her breathless. His eyes, though she could not see them, she knew they were not solely on her. Thus, making her aggressive with him. It was more like a battle between the two instead of dancing. The man left out a few laughs as she turned around and brought her hands to hold his biceps, her breathing in his ear as he chuckled darkly.

The song ended and she had to pull herself from him. He held contact with her hip still, his eyes ghosting over her body.

"Woman, you give as good as you get." He commented breathlessly. Clary's cheeks flushed but a smile still had not tinted the exasperation on her face. He laughed again, leaning in close to her with the slight stubble that he possessed scratching her chin. "And as badly as it would be, I hope to cross paths with you again," was all he said before turning away from her. Not, however, before something poked her side.

How had she _not_ sensed it before? Did he have it strapped to him?

Clary caught the reflection of club lights shine in the object he was carrying. At first, she presumed it was only his phone, but as his fingers tightened around it, her heart beated fast at the conclusion of it being a knife. As focused as she was staring at him, he seemed to have his eyes on something else.

On _someone_ else.

The man was walking towards a door that led to the club's storage, making her worry even more. She began to think that trailing after him wasn't such a good idea. What if something illegal were to take place? What would she do then? Run back out of the storage room and get help? _Yes, that's what anyone do in a situation like that._

He pushed open the door, closing it behind him. After a few long pauses, Clary sucked in a breath and cracked open the door, peeking in on what was taking place.

"...thousand dollars. Tell me, how does someone lose that kinda money?" A man tisked. He was a bit more taller and muscular than the golden-haired man.

"Jordan, it's obvious that he's human, right?" The golden-haired man reasoned with false hope that was obvious even to Clary. There was a man kneeling on the floor, the only reason he drew her attention was the fact that he had blue hair and blood dripping through the straight locks and onto the concrete floor.

"Jace, we've given this guy enough excuses to pay his debt. Any more and that's just… weak." Jordan said in disgust, squeezing the bridge of his nose with his thumb and index finger. The man on the ground began to panic, huffing and whimpering at the same time they began to move in closer.

"No, please, I'll pay it! I'll find some way-" Jordan hit him across the cheek with some sort of steel bar, the sound of his jaw or some other bone breaking being heard from her distance from them. Clary covered her mouth, stifling a gasp that they may or may not have heard. Whether it was the latter, Jace lifted his head, looking at the door and possibly her as well. Clary backed up immediately, sprinting down the dark hall and joining the gyrating bodies. They were so oblivious to what was happening, what was going on not one-hundred meters from them.

Her feet were quick on the smooth floor, finding Sebastian sitting in the same spot she'd left him. The screen of his phone was emitting a light that shined on his pale skin, a beacon to her frightened eyes. Her arms were swinging at her sides when she reached him, nearly out of breath with fear and physical strain.

"You okay?" Sebastian asked, turning off his phone and sliding it in his pocket. Clary's voice caught in her throat, and she turned her head, looking for any signs that she'd been discovered. The moment her gaze landed on the man- _Jace_ \- her heart skipped a beat, and not in fascination. In pure _terror_. Scared to end up like the blue-haired man on his knees.

"Can we go to your place?" She said in a subdued voice, hoping to sound fine. It was better than asking if they could go home, because if she did, then they'd have to go back into the swarm of people and dig out Simon and Isabelle, meaning that she could come face to face with Jace, who was probably looking for her right now.

Sebastian's eyes widened, swallowing his nerves before standing up far too quickly for someone who cared about appearing cool.

"Baby, are you alright?" He asked, touching her arm and pulling her close.

"Yeah, fine. Why?" She asked timidly.

"Well, you never wanna start this early, or not when there's a place to be." Sebastian answered softly, his dark eyes turning predatory as he looked at her vulnerability. In the corner of her eye did she see a flurry of blond, so she smashed her lips to his and turned him around, hoping to obscure her from Jace's sight. Sebastian slipped his tongue into her mouth and she allowed hers to mingle with his, using her own fearful adrenaline to convince him to let them leave. Her fingers tangled in his obsidian locks, forcing his mouth to crush against hers and merging her body with his as camouflage.

"Woah," He breathed, stroking her chin.

"Can we go now?" She whispered, smothering her cheek to the buttons of his shirt.

"Fuck yeah."

* * *

Her skin felt sticky, damp from last night's activities. Sebastian was lying under her, tracing small lines on her back with a foolish smile on his face as he imagined the other things they could do with the rising sun.

Clary pushed on his chest, sitting up to stare at him.

"I have to go." She said softly. Sebastian frowned, tugging at her forearms and trying to position her on top of him… again.

"No, stay. Please?" He asked. Clary shook her head at him, tugging on her lower lip with her teeth. She wished Isabelle would talk about this part of being in a relationship and not what occurred under the sheets. She never talked about the moments after, the vulnerability one would feel - to be so close to someone and only have the entertainment of the other. It was… confusing to say the least. Sure Sebastian was amazing in bed, but when it was just this, just _them_ , it was awkward. Clary didn't know what to say or how to even start a conversation. In his dark eyes was the burning, hungering for something more. More than physical connection, being that they had at least _that_.

"Sorry, Simon wants to get coffee, we planned this yesterday." Clary explained, suppressing a grin when she noticed that Sebastian was eyeing her exposed breasts. Her eyebrow raised at him, then gathered the sheets to cover her. A frown pressed the corners of his lips, and he reached to tug at the concealing fabric, to see her again. Her skin vibrated with need, and she found herself allowing the blanket to drop, revealing her wanting flesh.

Immediately did his hands cup her, massage the tender skin of her breast with a carnal hankering. The smile left her lips as she watched him busy himself, as she felt him grow stiff and sensitive under her. A few groans rumbled in his throat as he leaned up on his elbows and suckled at her breast, winding a hand around the nape of her neck to press her to him. Her hand wandered down his slick abs, feeling him more than ready.

"Then I'll go with you." Sebastian mumbled against her damp chest. Again, she shook her head.

"He's playing today. Remember how much you hated his last performance?" She asked with a higher pitch to her voice. He groaned against her nipples, releasing them to focus on rubbing against her for friction to ease his swelling.

"I'll be back as soon as I can," Clary eased, leaning down to kiss his sweaty chest and looking up to see him pout. Sebastian pulled at her shoulders, planting a soft kiss on her lips.

"Better." He chuckled as he watched her get up and head to the bathroom to take a much needed shower. She laughed when she heard him leave the bed to chase after her. "Why don't we save some time?" He suggested, scooping her up and sprinting to the bathroom.

They were giddy like hormonal high schoolers as she quickly turned the shower on while he teased between her thighs. When the water was at a nice balance between hot and cold, he picked her up again and pushed her against the shower wall, spreading her legs and moving inside her in the act of one quick thrust.

"Oh… oh my God." She breathed out, raking her hands up his back. He pounded between her slick entrance, his dick touching every sensitive nerve inside her. "Yeah, yeah… oh _God_." She panted. He noted at how tight she felt wrapped around him, that he'd never find anyone like her. She attempted to ignore the last part and concentrated on his thick cock sliding between her legs.

"I'm not gonna last," Sebastian grunted into her neck. She nodded at him, feeling him skim his hands to where they were connecting and pinch at her electric nub. Clary cried out and clung to him for the moments that his hips moved sporadically before stilling as he grunted his release.

The cab ride to the cafe was full of worried thoughts. Clary couldn't stop thinking about the blond man, and the crack of the others jaw bone. It was all very unsettling. She imagined going to the police, but would they believe her? What would she saw anyways? The guy was probably a criminal anyways! He was bound to get punished! Clary shook her head, knowing that no one deserved to feel that way. A chilling idea reminded her that the two men had been searching the club for her…

Oh _shit_.

They wouldn't find her! She was a random girl, but she was a redhead… How many people had fiery red hair like her that night? What percent of the human population had green eyes? The more she thought about it, the more she realized how unique she was… and not in a good way.

"Your stop." The cab driver announced, and she passed him a few wrinkled dollars before opening her door. She found herself looking around as she stepped out of the cab, wondering if anyone was looking at her. It was almost funny how one night out could do this to her.

Clary walked into the cafe, hearing Simon playing already. He caught her stare and smiled at her. Isabelle waved her hand in the air, so Clary scurried and sat next to her. Her friend was wearing that same smile that she'd worn the day she realized she loved Simon. Clary felt a twinge of jealousy - not for Simon - but for the feeling him and Isabelle shared between one another.

"You missed his first songs, but he has a few more to play." Isabelle chided.

"Should I be lucky?" Clary questioned. Her friend paused, and Clary saw that she was holding in a laugh. "How's the performance?" She asked her.

"Horrible." Isabelle smiled blissfully at her boyfriend. Clary snorted at her quietly as to not mess up Simon's gig. A woman came by to take her order, and she mindlessly spoke of black coffee. The woman nodded, leaving Clary and Isabelle back to their thoughts when she left. Clary's eyes wandered around - still taking in the playing of Simon and his band - skirting over the busied people. She looked out through the windows, staring at the passing cars and people who'd lean against buildings to smoke. And, like in the club, they landed on _him_.

She almost couldn't believe that he was there. Before fear could sprout in her chest, she felt a pull to him. But _unlike_ in the club, he was already staring at her - with a predatory grin spread as wide as it could without his cigarette slipping out and onto the dirty New York sidewalk. A gasp sucked in the cafe air swirling around her, she'd never seen such a _promise_ of deviance in someone's eyes.

"Clary? What is it?" Isabelle asked as she saw her friend's panicked expression. Clary couldn't answer her, only letting her hands shake with fright as Jace remained staring at her. "Do you need me to call Sebastian?" She offered. The only response Clary could manage was a shake of her head.

And then the most _stupidest_ of thoughts entered her mind.

"I'll be back in a sec. Come outside if I don't… _so I don't get ahead of myself_." Clary said with a forced smile. Isabelle looked doubtful at her friend, so she explained further. "I'm gonna be with _him_ ," she gestured subtly towards Jace. "So just come find us or something." Another fake smile and she was walking out of the building and into the alley that Jace was sure to follow her into.

"You should have stayed away from me." He spoke from behind her. Clary pivoted, her eyes wide and attentive to him. "You weren't supposed to see me again. I hoped for it, hell, even prayed. But… I don't think you realized how lucky you were to walk away, back to your boyfriend. Now, unfortunately, your luck has run out." He was talking with a husky tone, moving closer to her with each word.

"Wh-what are you talking about?" She squeaked as her back met with the side of the cafe.

"I think you know. I think you know _exactly_ what I mean." He said with a cold stare. Clary shook her head, trying to comfort herself by the fact that he could do nothing. Nothing at all in broad daylight.

"Why are you talking like that?" Clary whispered, her gaze having to lift as he towered over her. A part of her was insisting that he wouldn't hurt her, but the rational part told her to run. Run as far as she could and never look back.

But she couldn't, with a car pulling into the alley and blocking her exit. Its driver… she remembered him from the previous night. The way he slammed a bar into another man's face…

"I'm sorry. I'm so so sorry," and he sounded honest. His hand stroked her chin and he leaned in close to her like he had in the club. He'd sounded so convincing that she wasn't expecting a syringe to poke into her neck. She thought that someone would see the action and rescue her, but with Jace leaning so close, it wasn't possible to assume anything but that they were embracing. Slowly, her conscious ebbed away, slipping out of her throat with each breath as he walked her to the car.

"I'm so sorry."

* * *

 **AN: So if any of you have read _Pure,_ my last fanfic, the darkness of this story's plot wouldn't be _too_ shocking. Unlike that story, I'd written this one out but failed to have posted it. I didn't know if _Pure_ would be too taboo of a fanfic, but seeing as people adapted to that story quite well, I've decided to post this one.**

 **Unlike _Pure,_ the age difference isn't too bad. Clary is nineteen and Jace is twenty three. **

**There are some similarities in this story of how Clary met Jace in _City of Bones,_ but Jace actually _is_ a criminal in this fanfic. Clary isn't a damsel in distress in this story, even with her being kidnapped. **

**I have what could make a few chapters invested in this story, but am not posting them all at once. So, with your quick responses, I'll make sure to show you them if you see this story as good as the others I have been posting recently.**

 **Comment what you think in the reviews and chapter two should be up this week!**


	2. Turmoil

Her vision came to, allowing her to see the gray walls separated by the ditches of bricks connecting. The room was so dimly lit that she could close her eyes and see better, but she wouldn't. She'd spent enough time in the darkness of slumber, and would fight it for the remainder of her life - which she was sure wouldn't be long. She could hear the words that her parents would say over her grave. She could imagine Simon weeping and Isabelle a cold shell as she tried to remain in control of her emotions. Isabelle hadn't cried since her brother Max had died of cancer. This was the same - in a way - because Isabelle had no control or say in what happened to her friend. No amount of prayers would save the redhead.

"What the…?" Clary winced at the dryness in her neck. Her voice was so hoarse that her sentence resembled the noise of metal against metal. Was there anyone to hear her? Her gaze travelled past the walls, landing on a dark part of the room that was casting deviance. The shadow grinned at her, his teeth appearing like pearls hanging in the air. His hair was much, much brighter than what she recalled it to be. The feeling of dominance was also overbearing now, like he was now some sharpened blade that had once been rusted without promise.

What was probably hours after the initial breaking of skin, her neck still stung from the penetrating needle. It was better than the alternative. She was alive, alive and fearing for that very life that pulsed inside her veins, gave her an attitude, made sweat drop from her forehead. Yes, that life. If _he_ felt like it, he could probably kill her. He would, she was sure of it. As each agonizing second ticked by, her lifespan went down.

"And she's awake." The shadow chuckled, stopping immediately after a few seconds. Confusion laced her skin tightly together as she pondered what he was talking about. Surprisingly, this was stronger than her fear. Like she'd been here for years instead of… _hours_? Had she been here for a day? How long had she been asleep?

She opened her mouth to speak, stopping when the familiar pain of thirst filled her throat instead of a much needed glass of water. The shadow stepped under the bulb that was swinging from the low ceiling. His features were sharp, and his hair was practically emitting its own light under the bulb. His eyes were of the darkest parts of sin, selfishness being the first thought to make her shiver. The way he was looking at her like an object he'd stolen instead of a person. Who was he? Was he going to be the man to plant a bullet in her brain, or strike a bar across her cheek like Jordan had done.

As intimidating as he was trying to appear, her mind pulled her to the memory of him whispering apologies to her as he held her to unconsciousness. That man… whoever he was, had sunk into the golden skin of this empty shell. This entity devoid of any emotion other than greed and pleasure.

"You must be thirsty. You were out for… let's just say for a while." He grinned, leaning in close to pass her a plastic container that was heavy with the liquid it contained. Her hands lurched to grab at it, but a heavy jerk and a sting to her wrist made her realize that she had been bound. Of course they had tied her when they had taken her. What likeminded criminal wouldn't? "Let me bring it to you, Red." He whispered, pressing the bottle softly against her cracked lips.

Drop by drop, water spilled into her mouth as she stared blankly up at him. His own lips were parted as he breathed, smiling when the container became lighter. The way he was caring for her reminded her of how the other inmates at a prison would feed one another; like they'd much rather be doing something else.

Once she had drained the water from the bottle, he slowly retracted it from her pink lips, smiling with approval. His hand came to her face, thumb brushing at her slick mouth and grinning sickly at her. The skin that covered her stomach prickled with nausea and fear. With her throat now damp with satisfaction, she took the opportunity to speak; not knowing when it might be her last.

"My name isn't _Red_ , it's-" She began.

"I don't want to know your name." He cut off coldly. Something about the tensing of his muscles and set to his brows made her drop the subject entirely. He may not have seemed _too_ dangerous before, but that was then and now she was his captive.

A captive with common sense.

"Why am I here?" Clary whispered. Jace scoffed at her, visibly rolling his eyes under the glow of the bulb. He braced his back against the wall, sliding down to sit across from her with his knees pulled to his chest.

"I suppose you would like to know that, wouldn't you?" He asked with false humor in his throat as he released a chuckle. She nodded, not sure if he could see her through the passing darkness. He answered anyway. "Might as well tell you my name and birthday, along with my hometown." He scoffed. Clary felt her chest tighten at the sarcasm that was dripping from his sentence. Of course she knew why she was here, but to know what she had witnessed that night in the club would ease _some_ part of her curious mind.

"Please, if you let me go, I won't tell anyone. I probably haven't even been gone that long-" She started.

"Really? Now, tell me, when has that _ever_ worked for someone?" He asked her rhetorically. Tears bubbled to the surface of her eyes, spilling over and dampening her hot skin. Clary thought for a moment that she had sensed a softness in her eyes, but realized that he would never take pity on her. He'd already done too much to be regretful.

"I'm _not_ stupid." Jace growled, pulling a box from his pocket and seconds later an individual item. A lighter flickered in the curtain of darkness, showing her that it was a cigarette he was pushing between his teeth.

"Those will kill you." She blurted, shocked by her own outburst. Jocelyn had told Clary of her grandparents and how they were heavy smokers, saying that one night they hadn't properly disposed of a cigarette and set the house on fire with them in it, killing them both. From then on, Clary spoke against smoking, hoping to save the lives of some of her friends. Jace however, didn't know this, and looked clearly annoyed by her chiding.

He lowered the burning tobacco product from his teeth, releasing a toxic cloud of smoke into the air. Nothing but the ghost of smile traced his features as he allowed seconds to tick by before responding coldly.

"And you'd like that, wouldn't you? Hmm?" He teased aggressively, his volume low and predatory. "You sound like my mom… satan enjoy her presence." Jace spat. "If I'm gonna pay the fucking price of this things, let me enjoy it, dammit." He barked at her. Fear coiled tightly in her chest at how quick of a temper he had already sprouting. She could hear the voice of her family and friends, telling her to be obedient to him so that she'd live another day in this… captivity. Would they want her to live this way.

 _Ignorance is bliss_ , She thought at him with the dramatic effect of an eyeroll. Jace's eyes lidded with thinly concealed annoyance, turning his head to the side to spit at the wall. A grimace of disgust crossed her face at the action, swallowing bile as she lowered her gaze.

"Just be glad I'm not Jonathan." Jace spoke with a pestered sigh. Once again was she left literally in the dark with confusion. "He's much, much worse." He added after a passing silence. She didn't know why, but she nodded at him, knowing that the situation was the best it could be for her. Jace let out a laugh, blowing smoke her way and then spitting again, making a cycle out of it.

"Yeah, 'cause you're a ray of fucking sunshine." She huffed, curling her shoulders forward since she could not cross her arms. Adrenaline coursed through her veins, her heart now beginning to race with regret and the urge to inflict more emotional damage. Anger tinted his features as he tossed the cigarette, coming to stand on his combat boots. The muscles that covered his body puffed out - especially in his chest. She silently whispered a farewell to her family and friends, along with an apology for failing them. Had she been smarter, thought through her actions would she not be here and with Sebastian - who she was sure she would love to the moon and back should she find him. Should he find _her_.

His footsteps weren't quite distinct as he dragged himself slowly to her, his gaze as cold as a London winter with her father. She willed herself to look away before he could something to her, but again had she failed to think through her actions and chose against them. Her emerald eyes stared up into his, stopping him in his tracks. He grimaced, tearing his gaze from hers and turning on his feet.

"Where are you going?" She said with a growing whisper as each word left her mouth till she sounded desperate. In fact, desperation was a poor adjective to use. There wouldn't be a word in her time that would describe how utterly alone she felt in the humid room, with her captor as the only company she'd ever see for the foreseeable future.

"Away," he answered. Jace's tone was devoid of any emotions as to why he decided to leave. She watched him… _walk up the stairs? When had they appeared?_ He trudged up the steps, not for a second thinking about what was racing through her mind as he slammed the wooden door behind him. Air rushed out of her throat in the form of a hopeless sob. Tear after tear slid down her cheeks, and she couldn't even wipe them away with her hands being bound.

"Just kill me!" She shouted at the wall, staircase, and wooden door that was painted over with a strange color. Footsteps sounded above her, the ceiling flaking away and leaving debreigh coating her red hair. They didn't lead to the door, making her only sob harder. She wanted some sort of reassurance that she wouldn't be stuck in this _purgatory_. No one was there to answer her pleas, and no one would ever be there for her if she continued on living here. Being a captive here.

If this was all she had left to look forward to, then she'd much rather die.

* * *

 **AN: Filler chapter, I know, sorry!**

 **So Jace is an asshole, but you have to be if you're going to kidnap someone, right? Things will get better in the next chapter, Or as much as they can considering the circumstances.**

 **I loved the amount of response the first chapter got! Can we do the same for the second?**

 **Leave comments and questions in the reviews and I'll post the third chapter soon**


	3. Good Mourning

Anger was boiling; _brewing_ inside her heart as the hours or even _days_ ticked by. Would it have been so bad as to put a clock in the room? What was so bad about a clock? What could she _possibly_ do with a clock that was mounted to the brick wall? She was closer to five feet than six, hadn't the the faintest idea as to what even she'd do if she'd be able to pull it from the wall. _Hypothetically speaking._ Besides: they'd kidnapped Clarissa Adele Fairchild, not Bear Grylls! What was a nineteen year old to do as she was tied to not even a corner of the small basement with ropes she had no hope of getting out of? Sure, she could count sheep, (she'd spent enough time fantasizing about Jace's torture and eventual death, so that wasn't an option) sing every song - _hymn_ \- she knew, practice the breathing that her therapist had taught her whenever she had a panic attack after-

No, she'd promised herself and her family that she wouldn't go back to that dark place. She cursed Jace… _whatever the fuck his name was-_ for making her even consider that as an option to entertain her. She'd make him pay, pay as much as any person could for holding someone hostage. Should the law not abide to her wishes, then it be up to her alone to punish him.

She'd tie him up, just as he'd done her, except his rope would be made of the tightest coils, _the strongest materials!_ The room would be much, much darker. Smaller. More uncomfortable if a room could be such a thing. This place was already horrible, considering that she'd been a basement for close to this length of time. But the circumstances were different. Then, she knew that her mother would come and save her. That she'd be leaving London and returning to New York shortly. Now, wherever she was, there wasn't as _near_ a flicker of hope as the memory brought her.

 **"Deep breaths, Clarissa. You're safe now." The social worker spoke soothingly in an accent that was shared by the people of this country - including her father. She was clicking her pen rhythmically, and that was probably the only thing keeping Clary sane at the moment. The clicking of the pen reminded her of the footsteps she'd hear above her whenever she was in her father's basement. Whatever he was doing - there was someone else with him. He'd say that she'd be safe down there, away from whoever he was speaking with. Jon? Was that the name she'd heard? But thinking of the footsteps allowed the painful memory of the screams of agony that sunk through the basement ceiling and into her adolescent ears.**

 **"Your mother should be here within the hour, Clarissa." The woman assured. Clary looked at her with disbelief, knowing that her father was still out there. Still doing whatever it was that her father did. Still doing those horrible things to the people at his house. He'd said it was what he did for a living - "interviewing" was what he had called it. Was what the social worker was calling it.**

 **"You mustn't speak a word of this to your Mum, she wouldn't see reason." She heard the words leave the woman's mouth, and instantly she was on her feet; panting and trying to focus on one part of the room. The clicking of the pen had stopped, and now the "social worker" was trying to make Clary calm down with words that were drenched in bliss when they should have been coated with malice and threatening tones.**

 **"My Dad is a bad man! Why shouldn't she know! He's… _hurting people_!" Clary gasped, placing her back to the wall where event air couldn't pass through if a breeze were to blow along the bland building the suited men had taken her to. Her green eyes slowly met with the gray ones of the woman, seeing the pity in them.**

 **"I can admit that it was reckless of your father to not inform of us your annual visitation, but rest assured that your father is working for his country. Protecting people by _handling_ others." There was aggression in the woman's tone, defensive. Clary saw her fists clench at her sides, how muscles were pulled by the actions; and it suddenly became clear that she shouldn't push the buttons of these people. Until she was in the United States, she shouldn't be pushing _anyone's_ buttons.**

 **"Will I see him again?" Clary asked the woman, now taking in how young she was. How she could've passed as Clary's older sister. She had russet brown hair, and skin a rich tan that resembled caramel pouring over an ivory slate. From under the desk Clary could spot muscular legs adorned in office pumps, a strange scar that was barely visibly at the edge of her ankle. "Ever?" She added into consideration.**

 **"Your father is a busy, busy man." The woman started off, turning in her chair and staring at some small aspect of the wall behind Clary. "How he managed to remain your father for five years is a mystery to us, and lucky if there were ever a word to be said about the circumstances from your point of view. Your conception is a miracle as it is, considering how little of a time he spent in the Colonies. _Leave it to an american to spread her legs…_** **I guess he _did_ love your mother, as much as he told us when we had to take him back to London, despite his wishes. Be glad we sent someone to take care of you both, a friend of your father's.**

 **"But some people don't remain lucky for long, you and the people your father associates with are proof of that. So, as for goodbyes, yours was said to him when you decided to contact those policemen. They're dead because of you, and now I have to make a fuss of calling their families and saying some bullshit statement of how there had been gang violence - which means I'll have to kill a few civilians!" The woman said in a bored sigh, picking at her cuticles nonchalantly.**

 **"No, you won't ever see your father again."**

She found herself angry and panicked again for pulling into a memory relating to her father. How long had she been stuck in the trance they put her in? Again, she was wishing for a clock to magically appear on the bland walls and tell her. No such thing though, and yet again did Clary think back to the words the woman had spoken to her about how her luck had run out. Had her father even fought to see her again? The woman had faintly mentioned that he had wished to see Jocelyn again, but could the same be said about his daughter? Clary wasn't sure a man that inflicted such pain in people could ever love someone just as strong.

Could her father have some power in her being found? Surely he must've kept track of what she was up to… right?

Shifting against the wall, she winced at the tightness of the ropes that were rubbing her wrists raw. Who the hell tied these? The first boy scout to ever walk the face of the planet? Because Jesus were they so tight that she feared the circulation was being severed from her hand to arm, and that was another reason for her to wish to have a clock. The longer she was tied, the more risk the men were taking at her hands being amputated when she was found. That is, _if_ she was found.

"Remember what you told Isabelle, she's going to help the police find you." Clary assured herself. "Maybe Simon is still playing at his gig and you wouldn't have missed much?" She shrugged, realizing it as a flat out lie. Time was weighing down her eyelids with desperate instinct to slumber. Clary had spent _many_ nights doing laborious activities, and even then was she not tired. So with her being _exhausted_ was definitely saying something about the time she'd wasted down in the basement.

"Five minutes. You're going to rest for _five minutes._ " She told herself, closing her eyelids and counting sheep. She pretended that she'd spent a rough night with her boyfriend and her hands were still bound. Maybe pretending the situation was being with him would her dreams include his perfect image with her in his strong, comfortable embrace. She needed him desperately now, more than she'd ever needed someone in her life. And he'd showed up so unexpectedly in her life… just running into her at a local library. A pleasant smile spread across her face, and it would probably be the only one to grace her lips for the time being.

 _As clear as the air she breathed into her lungs was, the atmosphere was thick with a bright expansion of powder that was quickly turning darker. Like a dust storm that had no intention of being threatening to those it engulfed. Some parts of the fog were thicker than others, darker with the presence of limbs and smiles. She took a few steps towards some of the apparitions, confused when they evaporated into the fog. The figures were hidden by a curtain of impossibility, always disappearing when she got too close._

 _Their laughter was brushing up against her ears, but even then could she not make anything of the entertainment they obviously were experiencing. She was becoming frustrated by the time the fifth shadow had evaporated. As heavenly and peaceful the atmosphere was, she was debating if this was some sort of hell in disguise. Warm air was constantly riding up her skin, despite the clothing she was in; which consisted of a dress that resembled liquid gold pouring over her creamy skin._

 _She turned around, her skin prickling as though someone were running their hands down her arms and legs. As impossible as it was with the lengthy dress on. Eyes of silver, consisting of only color and no pupil, stared at her before hiding behind whatever invisible curtain shielded them. She chased after the figured, pivoting sharply when the same feeling washed over her, and the same glimmering eyes gazed at her with a frightening interest._

 _A face began to pour from the eyes. Bland as it was, it was also perfect. Infallible. But along with this change came another, more malicious one as well. It eyes, as pure as they had been perceived, were darkening until they were as black as her favorite coffee. The interest in them continued to brighten until a hand reached out from the concealing curtain and towards her. It was as pale as its eyes used to be, the fingernails appearing a deep crimson at the edges of its hands._

 _Screaming here did nothing but cause the golden powder around her to turn as dark as the creature's eyes. The light filtering through the environment took on a reddish hue, and now she was sure she was in hell. The shadows were giving of an evil vibe. They lingered longer when she approached them, and their details were becoming more pronounced: their nails were sharpened, they were much more taller than any living being could be, and they were bald as far as she could tell. The only thing that could be as human as she was the creature peeking in on her more frequently._

 _As the shadows moved in and the monster stepped out of its shield, panic was clogging her airways. The humanoid figure spoke a word against her ear; its tainted breath being warm on her cheek and neck. Wherever she stuck her hands or arms was a shadow or the man. Yes, because that's what it was. Or it was possibly another demonic shadow, just in the skin of a human. With the darkness of the world around them, his skin was practically **glowing**._

 _A brightness shot out from the thick clouds of blackened powder, wiping away the disgrace of demons with a scream being the only thing heard from them before their departure. Hope beat wildly inside her chest as she looked into golden eyes of her saviour, fearing that they too would go dark._

 _"Save me," She croaked, feeling the hand of the silver man slink across her chest and rest over her pulse._

 _"I can't," The angel frowned._

* * *

"Five minutes," Clary whispered to herself in more of a scold then reminder. Even though she could not look at the time and see when she fell asleep, she figured it had been a few minutes that she was trapped in the hell, realizing still that she was tired; her mind more than anything else. She was angry of the face the angel wore. How it was the same face as the man that tied her to this room. How that face, seeing it was the reason she was here.

She wiggled around, noticing how it was a pipe that the rope was tied to. A firm tug confirmed that there would be no chance of loosening it. No chance of breaking free and using the pipe as a weapon against her captors.

So they'd leave her in a room with a _pipe_ \- even though it was connected to the wall - but not a _clock_?

"Five more minutes." Clary decided before counting the twenty-fifth sheep to jump across her vision.

* * *

"How nice of you to join me, Clary." Jocelyn smiled from across a marble table. Clary blinked a few times, seeing that they were seated in the _middle of a field._ Jocelyn didn't seem to mind though, and poured a steaming dark drink into a cup that was placed on a plate in front of her, then into Clary's own cup. Clary smelled it, the smell pulling her to her father's home in London. Images of him showing her a shirt with his homeland's flag printed on it, how he made her wear it when she had to return to her mother. It was like a joke to him, and a cruel one when she looked down at her chest and saw the same flag covering it.

"Why am I here?" Clary asked her mother, pushing away the steaming cup of familiarity. Jocelyn pouted, but cupped her hands around her drink and took a pleasured sip of it, pulling back with a smile that she gave to her daughter.

"Don't you want to be?" Jocelyn asked with a raised auburn brow. Clary thought for a second, turning her head to look at the green fields and bright meadows, knowing that the image could be much worse. To prove it, the flowers around her began to die and turn the color of the charcoal.

"Yes," she said and watched life pulse back through the scenery. Relief filled her chest when she turned to face her mother that was still there, sitting across the table. Her skin was glowing, and her eyes a cheerful green that was absent from Clary's own. Or at least when she were to awaken. "Yes, of course I want to be here, Mum. With you." Clary nodded, glad that she could still use her mother's nickname without a strange feeling to waver between them. While she never picked up her father's accent, hearing the phrase so often from Valentine made her keep the altered title.

"Good." Jocelyn grinned, taking another sip of her dark drink and looking off at the golden sun that shined over the horses that grazed on the distant grass, while large wheels turned inside sparkling waters that were glimmering more than diamond. It was as if they were put into another time, another world where such a beautiful scene was possible. How was it that she had dreamed of this?

"Good? I'd rather be seeing you than dreaming of you." Clary frowned. She tugged at her graphic shirt, feeling a pang of longing for the comfort that her father had brought her. At least, before she realized he was hurting people for the sake of his country. If she were quiet enough, she'd be able to hear their _tortured screams-_

"You have to be strong." Her mother interrupted.

"How? Do you realize what I'm going through?" Her voice had raised a bit before settling at a harshened whisper. "Of course you do, you're in my head. We're in _my_ head. And I've created this place, I've created _you_." Clary scoffed, crossing her arms and not looking into her mother's eyes.

"Clary, look at me." Jocelyn spoke up without a tremor to her voice. Clary, did in fact look up and cringed at what she saw. Her mother's eyes were lifeless, a dull green. More like moss, and her cheeks were sunken in, her skin as pale as the demon she'd dreamt of. "Look at _her_." The scenery around the changed to an apartment that was all too familiar to Clary. They were in her home, staring at another Jocelyn, who was sobbing next to a window where a foggy New York sunset filtered through. Luke was holding onto her, whispering words of comfort in her ear while Jocelyn was shaking her head.

 _"No, she can't be gone."_ The other Jocelyn sobbed, her fingers digging into the thin gray robe she was wearing.

"That's what will happen if you give up, if you lose hope." Her mother warned. Clary tore her eyes away from the painful scene before it had the chance to change back to the wonderland it had been. "He'll be sad too, ya know." Jocelyn added.

"Simon will understand." Clary amended.

"No, not Simon." Jocelyn corrected. Clary thought for a moment, her eyes widening at what her mother was assuming and quickly began to shake her head with fever.

"Mum, we're not _that_ serious. I mean, yeah, of course he'll be a little sad about me being gone, but he'll find someone else to care for. More than me-"

"You'll see. Just give it a little time and you'll see for yourself."

"Mum, what are you talking about?"

* * *

Clary was a little more than puzzle when her eyes popped open. The room was still the same as it had been when she fell into her slumber, although be it slightly colder. The floor was still dusty, and the walls still bland without anything more than a few stories to tell. The stairs had the same breakable appearance to them, but as for the temperature to have changed for the worse, things were still the same. As in, no police officer was shaking her awake and applauding her for her bravery, or golden eyes bearing into hers and making her wonder what emotions were running through them. And _still the same_ was the exhaustion slowing down the pace at which blood pumped through her veins.

"Ten minutes. That's it. Ten minutes and I'm back to the captive trying to figure a way out of here." She swore, closing her eyes tightly and not giving a damn about fluffy sheeps and the number in which lulled her to sleep.

She groaned awake, sliding back to her sitting position and hearing a soft whine from the metal pipe. Her eyes skirted around the room, glad for once that no one was there to offer her food or words of advice the next time they lit a cigarette. Her shoulder was aching from the position when she righted herself, but she put herself in the form again, repeating her actions to make sure it was the sound of metal giving way when she sat straight once again.

"No way." Clary whispered to herself; scared that Jace would hear her and laugh at her hope. She tossed out the idea and threw her body forward. Her thighs slid easily on the dusty floor, but her shoulder gaze a cry of pain, and her wrists were numb from the length they had been tied in. The pain was more of an echo as she tugged over and over again at the pipe, fearing that when her captor found her, that he'd punish her brutally for trying to leave him. For having the nerve to test her safety in his hold.

 _ **"But some people don't remain lucky for long, you and the people your father associates with are proof of that…"** _ She heard in the back of her head, praying that the woman had been horribly wrong. Another cry from the pipe and she was flung a few feet forward from the force of her efforts. The pipe slid across the room as she broke it and a few traitor tears leapt for freedom as well. She brushed at them reverently, trying to stand even though she still remained tired. Her eyes agreed with that statement, not being able to focus on one part of the room as she stumbled about. She roamed across the room and reached for the pipe, testing the feel of it in her hand.

"Get a _grip_." She growled, turning to the stairs and moving as fast as she could to reach them. It was more of a glide than a sprint with the smoothness of the cemented floor. The wooden stairs did not creak as she put her weight on them, or when she rested for a second on the first few steps. She figured that the circulation that had been cut from her hand had an effect on what she was able to feel from the rough material, seeing that feeling wasn't something she was able to do as she gripped the railing.

The climb up the few steps was one of the hardest things she'd accomplish, or at least if felt that way as the air was sucked out of her lungs in a panic attack when she reached the door. The door, which her eyes could not focus on, was a mossy green, and perhaps the biggest entrance she'd ever see in her life. It was tall, unnecessarily tall. The knob was the size of a cake as she rested her palm on it. How people had managed to enter and exit the basement was a mystery to her. One that she had to solve as she placed both hands on it and turned it as if it were the steering wheel of a car.

When it opened there was a strange… _popping sound?_ And rather than another room, it was pain that she was greeted with. Her paints grew wet with the liquid pouring from her wrists that were rubbed so violently raw and yet she could not see them.

Because they were tied behind her back.

"No, no, no, no." She breathed into the basement room, situated in the same flat of the walls. Her shoulder was screaming her, but not loudly enough through the trickling of blood that had begun to pool around her bottom. The rust that had once been rubbing against the back of her palms had sliced through her wrists that were tied together and was now nosing the small of her back. Before, if her pants had ever been stained with blood, she would be mortified to be seen that way. In the present, she literally screamed for attention to be made to the amount that was pouring around her and making her tired. Clary fought to stay awake this time, and no amount of sheeps would take her away.

 ** _They were in her home, staring at another Jocelyn, who was sobbing next to a window where a foggy New York sunset filtered through. Luke was holding onto her, whispering words of comfort in her ear while Jocelyn was shaking her head._**

 ** _"That's what will happen if you give up, if you lose hope." Her mother warned._**

Biting back dignity, she screamed for her captors to come to her, and even louder when no sound of footsteps were heard above her. _Why weren't they helping her? Didn't they want to keep her alive? Wasn't that the whole point of kidnapping? Or was this better for them that she was dead so that there was no chance of their crime being leaked to the authorities?_ She slumped against the wall, trying to save her energy and slow the rate at which blood poured from the joining of her wrists.

"Jesus, Red. Miss me that much?" Clary heard as the basement door cracked open. A scoff escaped her throat, followed by a long sigh. "What's wrong?" Jace said as she approached her, his predatory eyes muddled with confusion. Embarrassment was clear on his features when he saw the blood between her legs. "Uh, don't you need something for that? A pad or whatever it's called-"

"My wrists, I cut my wrists with the pipe." Clary panted out, wincing when Jace bent her back and confirmed what she was saying.

"How long?" He growled.

"How long _what_?" She responded.

"How long have you been bleeding?" Jace clarified, reaching at something strapped to his belt while trying to untie her at the same time. Clary laughed at him, as if he expected her to count every hour, minute and second that ticked by.

"If I don't die, will you put a clock down here?" She whispered, her eyes shutting with a final note to them. She didn't stay conscious long enough to hear his answer and some part of her wished that she had, just for the hell of it.

 ** _"That's what will happen if you give up, if you lose hope." Her mother warned. "He'll be sad too, ya know." Jocelyn added._**

* * *

 **AN: This is more like a part 2 for the last chapter. I added in a few detail about Clary's past with her father, and I hope some of you got the hint of the demon that was watching her in the first dream (Jonathan.) Or that it was also him that Clary heard Valentine yelling at. While there wasn't much of Jace's character in this chapter, there will be some in the next**

 **Review so Clary can get a clock!**


	4. Similar Sufferings

She was standing straight, her legs being cooled by the warm touch of water that flood around her. Under the soles of her feet was the painted bottom of a pool. Depictions of angels and demons were painted where she stood, directly in the middle of an avenging angel's attack. The water was so very clear that she had to make sure she wasn't standing in a cold room, but bubbles that gathered at her chest proved that she was absorbed in the distilled water. Her small stature made it to where the water had enveloped all but what was above her collar bones. Everything was quiet, unmoving around her. Even her pulsing heart would cause ripples in the image below her.

There were mixed feelings about her surroundings. One was that she'd never felt more at peace, tranquil and content. Her forehead was wrinkless as she took in the stillness of the water, of the wind that failed to pass through the atmosphere. It was perfect. There was nothing that could change the way the scenery fit into the frame of a painting. She was sure that she'd painted something similar, but then again, she'd never actually been in one of her paintings before. Never been inside anything so infallible.

But it couldn't have been more _wrong_.

The water was far too cold. Any noise, such as her breathing, would disrupt the deaf tune to the air. Above the surface of the water, the temperature was humid, like a sauna. Without the needles of the freezing water, she would melt outside of it. It was an accurate balance of two uncomfortable things that could leave her satisfied, but still leaving room for improvement.

A noise, almost deafening with the irritable silence of her surroundings, entered her ears. The sound of water splashing resembled glass shattering. Her perfectly fallible world was shattering because of _him_. The water warmed with his body temperature, as he stepped in and stood a few feet ahead of her, his chest visible. If she thought the boy waiting at home was perfect, then the golden skin of this one was _impossible_. How could he appear as vulnerable with his pained face, but his muscles ended up making up for it by being so tight and firm.

 _He's… perfect._ Clary lowered her eyelids in shame. Shame for thinking it, and shame for agreeing.

"What are you doing here?" She asked him. Jace's head cocked to the side, a smirk on his lips as he gestured to the scenery. Right, they were in a dream. Above, thick clouds of grey cracked loudly, yet no rain fell from them.

"You want me here." He answered simply. Clary scoffed at him, crossing her arms and feeling the bare skin that was her breast. Surprisingly she felt no embarrassment, not with him so close and with her so wanting. Apparently, anyways.

"Why? Why would I want you here?" She asked with a tightened face that showed disgust. He smiled warmly at her, his hand resting over the surface of the water. His eyes remained on her face and not her bare skin that was submerged under the warming water. The water that he made bearable. Or was it the need to be around him that made this purgatory bearable?

"Because, you and I share the same pain." Jace explained, taking his hand from the water and bring it across his dry chest as if he were trying to wet it. When he brought his hand back to his side, there were deep, deep scratches on his pectorals and abdomen. They began to bleed into the pool, turning the water around him a thick and opaque scarlet. Clary couldn't tell where her fiery hair ended and the blood began. The water was becoming more hot than cold with him bleeding his life essence into it. Her feet remained stationary as she watched in horror as he bled confidently.

 _Oh, God. Is this heaven, or hell? Heaven because I'm with him, or hell because of it? What is he talking about?_

"What pain-" She felt _something_ gushing out of her wrists, and looked down to see the sides of them torn violently. Blood was racing out of them as if she were a torn hose, and soon the pool was no longer clear. She couldn't see the blood leaving her wrists, but could feel it nonetheless.

"Cut from the same cloth," Jace continued. And the water began to drain, the crimson extract clinging to their bodies like a damp cloth. Which it turned into, hugging her torso and thighs and transforming into a cocktail dress, no sleeves to cover her shoulders or strap across her collarbones. She turned to look at him, watching maroon dress pants conceal his muscular legs, and the blood that had dropped down from his chest morphing into the rest of the tuxedo. _Cut from the same cloth…_

"What…?"

"Care to dance? For ol' time's sake?" He grinned at her, flashing a chipped incisor that reassured her that he was not perfect. Not with the maroon tuxedo holding to him to where it showed off his toned physique, his hair at the perfect angle, and his skin a melted gold. She remembered the way her body had molded to him at the club, her cheeks flushing to match the red of her dress and hair.

 _This is insane, you're insane for wanting this,_ she thought to herself, curling her fists into her palms as she debated running from him.

In the back of her mind, she heard a distant humming. The tune was familiar, vaguely though. Memories of Simon trying to play the piano filled her head. The name was too far for her to grasp at. It didn't fit the situation she was in. Not with its gentle scales and pure nature. It was the complete opposite of the song they'd first danced to at the club. Where that one had been raw and passionate, this one was full of adoration and softness.

Jace began to walk towards her, appearing like a lion waiting in the grass for his prey. Alone without the lioness and forced to hunt for himself. Alone and hungry.

Her vision blurred, as if looking at him through a waterfall. She blinked a few times, feeling her eyes wet with tears that weren't salty. Through the haze, she could see Jace approach her, wrap her in his arms and press her to him with no chance of escaping. Not that she wanted to. Or, _could_?

She was back to that immobility that had held her against a wall for what seemed to be an eternity. She was unable to move against him, unable to hold him back as his chin rested on her head. Something poured over her head but Clary could not look past him to see what it was. The feeling of his fingers weaving through her curls made her eyes flutter close in relaxation. A calloused fingertip outlined the curve of her jaw, down her neck, and across her collarbone. Trailing down her arm and being lost from there on.

 _"... can't leave."_ He said before she felt something being poured down her hair and back again. Clary opened her eyes, looking past his shoulder to see the edges of a _bathtub_? The water was tainted pink, making her think back to the fair share of bleeding the two of them had done. She turned her head and at the same time noticing Jace freeze. Pushing a hand softly against his chest, she ran her hand over the bare skin of it, waiting for the cuts to return and glad when they didn't.

"So I didn't wet my shirt," Jace muttered. Clary nodded, not caring about a word he'd just said. She saw his adam's apple bob nervously as she skimmed her hand up to her collarbone like he'd done to her. His eyes slowly shut as he allowed her fingers to trace the details of his skin; to the space between his pectorals, along the faint scars she'd mistaken for tattoos that riddled his skin, up to the star that brightened his shoulder. From what she could see, he was a strong man. Not that she was going to be giving him compliments, but Clary was sure that he could beat Sebastian in an arm wrestling match if the two met. If they did, arm wrestling was the last thing they'd do.

Her eyes wandered to his pink lips, how they were parted and the air that passed through them quickly in pants.

It suddenly crossed her that she was _naked_ in front of him. Clary's arms shot to cover her chest and navel. She heard a wet squish and glanced down at a towel that draped over her milky skin.

"I didn't want you freaking out when you woke up in different clothes." Jace explained in a soft voice that threatened to lull her back to that dreamland. She didn't know what to say, how to react. Was she supposed to be angry that he made the choice for her, or grateful that he'd respected some form of her dignity? Clary watched his eyes go cold, knowing what was to come next.

"Why'd you do it?" He growled.

"What?" She asked with a genuine curiosity. Jace's face contorted to an unsatisfied expression, his lips turning down and his eyes sharpening to a glare. A coldness spread about her chest and ended at her fingertips that he'd once touched. She wanted him to warm her again, make her feel better like he had done in the dream. An even greater feeling crossed over her at the realization of what she had just wished for.

"Try to kill yourself." Jace said with a pained grimace. Clary's eyes widened, a burn lacing her vision as she took in what he had just said. Did he really think that she had tried to commit suicide?

"I wasn't-" He angrily dug his hand into the tub and fished out one of her arms, gesturing to the stitches that lined the insides of her wrist, then grabbing at the other arm and doing the same. She was speechless for a few reasons. One, because there was a thin ribbon of blood that had tore from one of the wounds from him jerking the stiff skin so hard. Two, because he had actually cared enough to do that for her. And three obviously of the thought that she could have _died_.

"Now, tell me what the hell that looks like to you." Jace hissed.

"Deep cuts." She whispered, keeping her eyes away from his deathly stare. A growl rumbled in his throat before his put his hand back in the tub and placed it at the small of her back… that wasn't protected by the towel. He slid her up then pushed her forward so that her nose was a few inches from his own. From this distance Clary could see the shadows that had come to define his face. The deep pools of gray that rested under his eyes, and the pits of darkness that contoured his cheek bones.

"Next time you want to play on that little line between life and death," he snarled. "Don't half-ass it, because you better _hope_ you're dead when I find you." He threatened, pushing her back roughly to the edge of the tub. Jace didn't wait for a response before leaving the bathroom, slamming the door behind him. The towel had peeled back from her body. With shaking hands, she wrapped it around herself again, more securely.

She wasn't in the bathroom for long before a girl with caramel skin and dark hair pulled back in a ponytail entered. Her stomach was swollen in what Clary instantly presumed was a pregnancy that was nearing its end. The girl waddled over to the tub with a pitiful smile that Clary wanted to be sent away. The pitiful part, at least.

"Oh, I'm so sorry for him. He's so dramatic." The girl rolled her eyes in the direction of the door. "I'm Maia… and you're wet." She blushed, turning to reach for a dry towel that hung on hanger. Clary eagerly took it, standing quickly to place it around her body. She was thankful that air-drying wasn't something these people believed in.

"Thank you." Clary whispered. There was a glow to the girl, _Maia_. One that shouldn't be there considering the crime that was hovering over this house.

"It's the least I could do, you know. With this whole 'hostage' thing going on." Maia answered with a sheepish grin. Clary nodded at her, curious as to why this girl was involved in this life. How her bubbly personality mixed with danger. But, at least it was another girl. Clary didn't know how long it'd be before she could see Isabelle. Or Jocelyn.

"Uh, we kinda had to guess your size. And Jace was sure it wasn't mine with me ready to pop any day now." Maia froze for a second, confusing Clary. "Shoot!" She whispered. "You're not supposed to know his name…" Maia panicked.

"I won't tell," Clary shrugged. She reached for the plastic bag next to Maia, glad that it contained casual clothes and not something strange. Inside there was a plain gray shirt, with pink athletic shorts that would rest somewhere mid thigh. She pulled out one of the items, giving Maia a confused glance.

"He didn't really know what size you'd be… in that area, so I told him somewhere from 'A' to 'C.'" Maia answered. "I guess he just grabbed all sizes in between…" She added with a whisper. "I'll just leave you in here to change. Is that something Jace - _dammit_ \- is that something he would do?" Clary shrugged at the girl. Not really caring what she decided on.

"You're not going to try and leave, are you? Not because I'm going to tie you up or something. Just… wouldn't want Jonathan to get angry with you. No, I wouldn't wish that on anyone." Maia spoke warily. As much as Clary wanted to find out who this Jonathan character was, there was an instinct telling her to prolong the wait.

"I'll be fine changing here. Then I guess you can take me back to that basement." She offered. Maia bit on her lip nervously, nodding before heading for the bathroom door.

"Oh! I almost forgot! He wanted me to tell you it was ten forty-five." Maia blurted before leaving Clary alone. A smile traced Clary's lips at what Jace told Maia to say. It wasn't as good as a clock, but knowing the time had _some_ relief. Though, it really wasn't useful, it added a sense of normality to the chaos that was becoming her everyday.

She dried herself off with the towel. Putting on the plain cotton bra, she bit back a gasp at how he'd bought a bra that she wouldn't dare try on in this situation. Not that she didn't _like_ push-up bras, but now was _not the time_ to show off the girls. It was a good thing he'd purchased loose shirts. Holding back another horrified gasp, she skimmed through the selection of underwear he'd bought. This had to be a joke to him. In no way would she try on a g-string, or granny panties. She settled on some lace ones, deeming them the most comfortable. It was better than no underwear at all.

Sliding the shorts over her legs, she thought about what Jace had said to her. Did he really threaten to kill her? Worse, did he think giving her some warped version of her request mean that she wouldn't be enraged at him? Oh, depression was the last emotion she'd feel for the next few days, hours and minutes. In fact, she was about to slam her fist in the bathroom mirror if he wouldn't see that as a suicide attempt.

* * *

He had a cigarette between his full lips, blowing puffs of smoke into the humid air. She glared at him, vowing that if she ever got out of her ties, she'd pull it from his teeth and burn him with it. His golden hair was stiff with the sweat of dragging her around, from fighting her off more than once when he loosened the ropes that bound her. She didn't care though, she'd do it again if she had to, and she _had_ to. There was no telling what he'd do to her the longer he had her in his clutches.

The longer he had her to himself.

He was there, and then he wasn't. She could tell he was standing so close, and yet so far. The only tell he had was the burning bud of his cigarette. When the foul-smelling odor reached her nose, seeped into her lungs, she could smell the poison.

He was poison.

Clary's jaw was shut tight with anger. Dark shadows were cast down her cheeks from the bright bulb that hung above her head. If she wanted to, she could tease him about how cliche he was being. _How original_ she wanted to spit at him, but he'd probably take it as a sign of her breaking down like a typical captive.

Another thick plume of smoke and her patience was wearing thin. She hoped that Sebastian would string him up by his legs, set him on fire with the heat of his own cigarette. That was the only thing keeping her sane: thinking very _insane_ thoughts. As long as she could envision her future, she'd be okay.

She couldn't lose hope.

She wouldn't.

No matter how hard he hit or degraded her- which he would in the near future- she wouldn't let him have her hope. Even now, as she had the thick material of rope digging into her wrist as she thought of a way to escape, she still had it. He had placed something soft under her, for when she slept. It was better than the pipe that had dug into the small of her back.

"Hungry yet, Red?" He said, jolting her from her thoughts. She didn't tear her eyes away from the floor, not giving him the pleasure of eye contact. Seconds of tension ticked by before she could hear his feet shift under him as he waited. "Suit yourself. Just trying to be courteous to my guest." He shrugged, sticking the cigarette back between his teeth.

To be honest though, her stomach was practically digesting itself. It had been _so long_ since she touched food. Since she saw everyone she loved. Since he took her from them and forced her into this world of crime and merciless punishment. He had yet to lay a fist on her, but Clary was sure that it'd be soon. She could literally taste the tension in the air when he spoke. It thickened each time she refused to talk to him, but what was the point of that? It wasn't like he was going to set her free for muttering a _hello_.

She wasn't here for small talk. Mainly because she wasn't supposed to be _here_.

"You know, I read this article about how victims will sympathise with their captors, but I see that isn't you." He spoke up again, making her want to spit across the room and smother out his nicotine stick. He was doing this on _purpose_ , trying to get a reaction from her after the cruel thing he'd said to her earlier. _Some shitty apology,_ she thought to herself. "Yeah… some of the people fall for them too. Become their fuck buddy." He chuckled, blowing more smoke into the air. Clary's body shuddered at the thought of being with him _that_ way. It disgusted her that he was thinking such thoughts.

"Shut up," Clary growled under her breath. She felt his golden eyes on her, watching to see if she would recoil. "What? You think I'm going to half-ass everything else? Like emotional display?" She spat at him, watching his eyes soften for a miniscule fraction of a second. The warmth of his amber eyes vanished quickly, leaving her with the cold shell yet again. The cold shell that had put her in this situation. She wanted the man who danced with her, that drew her attention like a moth to a flame. Not this _animal_. "And for the record, I didn't do it on purpose."

"You're lying!" He blurted, silently scolding himself at the outburst when he saw her eyes go to slits. Was he really trying to maintain control? _Now_?

"No, I'm not. Believe me, don't. I really couldn't care less." She shrugged, fixing her gaze on the ditches in the brick walls. He was silent for a few drawn out moments, and then she heard the sound of him moving closer. Close enough to where he could take her chin in his hand and force her to look him in those haunting, beautiful golden orbs that only he could possess.

"Swear it, swear it on your life." He demanded quietly. Clary let out a sigh, warming his palm as he held her stationary. His golden eyes scanned her face for anything, whether it be vulnerability or signs of aggression. She couldn't show either when she felt absolutely empty inside. Numbness was poison, and she'd swallowed the contents of the bottle. The same could be said about him and softness… _Was he growing soft on her?_

"Swear what, exactly?" She said in a monotone voice that quaked slightly with her temper from his original insult.

"Swear that you weren't trying to kill yourself." He clarified with that same demanding tone she was becoming quite used to. Her brows were pursed together, green eyes glimmering up at him with a question evident in their pools. More and more was she aware that his fingertips were gently rubbing the skin under her chin, so subtle that she had to pause her thinking and concentrate on the action.

Clary thought she was sick for wanting him to hold her tighter, to hold her at all. _Was there a name for this illness? This compassion she felt for a man that deserved nothing near as nice?_ She'd heard of it before. Of someone sympathising with their captor.

"Why? What difference could it possibly make? That it _will_ make once I've sworn to you? A promise made to you from a girl whose name you don't know?" Clary asked him, jolting slightly when his other hand reached for her forehead. His own brows tightened together at her recoil, as if she had somehow hurt him. How? She didn't know, but only took notice to the sharpening of his eyes - the softness leaving them like the blood that had previously fled from her wrists. With a weighted sigh, he continued his reaching, touching her forehead and smoothing out her confusion with the pad of his thumb. This time it was her own gaze softening for him, while his hardened as if it were water freezing solidly.

"No, I guess it won't." Jace whispered. Lowering his hand and sitting her softly back to her place against the wall. She watched him leave, unable to ignore the sting to her eyes. _What are you doing to me?_ She silently thought to him.

* * *

 **AN: oooo, _angsty_. The bathroom dream will make sense in future chapters! ( _thoughts on it, btw?)_ Any comments on Jace's mood swings? _Temper_? Anyone concerned about Maia's situation? I would hope so? What about the dramatic ending? _What is he doing to her,_ exactly? Stockholm syndrome, or more?**

 **Fingers crossed that Clary doesn't have to meet Jonathan on a bad not. Or, a worse one considering he's taking part in her kidnapping.**

 **When, oh when will Clary and Jace get on a first name basis? Could it be the next chapter?**

 **Review and you'll see! ( _dun dun_ _dun_ _)_**


	5. Lucky

"You need to eat, Red." Jace groaned as he offered her a spoonful of meat and potatoes. It smelled… awful. Like he'd used gasoline to make it simmer instead of a regular flame. Her nose was telling her to refuse his offer. Her stomach, her stomach was telling her to eat the goddamn food before it began to digest itself. There was that thrumming in her head - pride - that told her to spit at him for what he'd said to her the day before. It would take a lot more than a few days to make her want to kill herself. A lot more than sour company and humid basements to make her want to slice at her own wrists.

"Why? You've probably poisoned it with something. Hoping to kill me probably." She snapped, turning her nose against the wall and ignoring her stomach grumbling louder than her words. He had to _nerve_ to laugh at her. A frown pressed her lips to reach at her chin, and silenced him thankfully. At least he was attempting at trying not be an asshole liked he'd been for the duration of them knowing each other. She heard him mutter something under his breath, increasing her agitation. "I'm sorry, what was that? Am I making you _angry?_ Did you forget that _I'm_ the one stuck down here while you have the freedom to do whatever you want?" She huffed.

"I'm trying to fucking _feed you,_ and you want to start this shit?" Jace growled, his golden eyes burning through her confidence faster than any flame. Her back curled into the wall again, crushing her wrists that were tied behind her. "Don't you know how _lucky you are?_ I would have _killed_ to be treated this way! When I - _if_ I was in your position!" He continued, setting the spoon down and leaning in till his nose was practically touching her.

"How am I _lucky_? Who gave you the right to determine if I'm lucky? As if you'd know what I'm going through, the torture you're putting me through each time you leave me down here and away from my family!" She cried out, trying to shove the uncomfortable feeling of him being so close to her. His intimidation was working, despite the magnitude of her pride. Her green eyes looked at the floor, at the thin mattress that cushioned her position. No, she wasn't lucky at all. Not when she could compare this to a night spent wrapped in her boyfriend's arms. But compared to another captive, she might have won the lottery.

"Why can't I feed myself?" She asked him in a whisper. Her body was trembling at the distance between them. Which was very small. Smaller than when he had held her as they danced in the Pandemonium. He leaned back, placing his palms on his thighs to stand. Her heart did a leap inside her chest, in fear that he'd leave for another lengthy span of time. "NO!" She cried out, startling him. Jace froze, eyes wide with curiosity and the shock she'd given him. There were no words to say because the outburst had shocked her just as well.

"What?" He asked, his voice gruff but with an undertone of concern that he was trying to hide from her. Clary bit the inside of her cheek, nervous about the next sentence of words that would leave her mouth. The darkness in her eyes was begging her to say them, to say something that would make him feel all the more needed. She didn't _want_ to depend on him, quite the opposite, but she was stuck in a basement with her hands tied behind her back with no hope of ever escaping.

"Don't leave." Clary spoke softly, her eyes looking up at him under their coppery lashes. He resembled an avenging angel with his tightened jaw and clenched fists, but his eyes blazing with a kind fire that whispered _mercy_ to her. As much as her shoulders reminded her of when he'd gotten angry in the bathroom, her mind reasoned that she could be lying in a shallow grave. The strangest of the assurances came from her heart, which told her there was a reason behind it. That she was _special_ to him.

"Why shouldn't I?" He scoffed. _Was he really going to make her say it? It was one thing to tie her wrists together and leave her in a dimly lit basement, but now he wanted her to grovel?_ And all softness left her as she snapped at him.

"Go ahead. Leave. I'd much rather die of malnutrition than whatever you have planned for me!" She yelled at him. His eyes thinned to black lines, the predator returning. Jace pushed the bowl of diced meat and potatoes to touch her thighs, her mouth watering when her nose could smell the calories she needed. Though as badly as she wanted to dive nose first into the bowl, her hands remained stuck behind her. Some of the bowl's contents had spilled with the dip of the mattress, touching her legs to warm them with slick oil and salty meat. Her stomach roared in a demanding plea for him to take the spoon and feed her. _That_ wouldn't be happening with her attitude towards him.

"Watch. Your. Mouth." The words rumbled in her ears, making her shiver with fear and the need to eat. Her mouth, which was slick with burning saliva as she watched his foot rest on the bowl, threatening to spill the rest of her food and ruin her meal. She didn't know why he was so upset, she only said what was true. If she didn't eat soon - very soon - she'd die. She could already see the tightness of her skin as the days passed. Refusal wasn't an option anymore.

"I - I _know_ you're going to kill me." She admitted softly, bowing her head as if she were a child confessing to smuggling sugary snacks. Air sharply entered his mouth as he leaned down to her level, lifting her chin firmly but not roughly to where she could nothing but stare into amber pools of pity.

"You're wrong." He chided, picking up the spoon and filling it with the salty meat that was glistening with oil and spices. The metal greeted her lips, and he parted them with a small push. Her tongue screamed in acceptance, sweeping across the spoon and taking the offering. His stroked her cheekbone in a reassuring manner that made her heart flip unexpectedly. Her brows pursed together in the confusion her emotions brought her. "I'm not… I'm not going to hurt you." He said in one short exhalation with his eyes shut tightly in the release of his pride. She was still silent. Chewing the food and relishing in every flavor it brought.

He pulled the spoon away from her lips. She heard the noise of her teeth sliding over the metal and did her best to not pout about the loss of food. He dug the utensil back into the bowl, bringing it back to her lips and not having to do anything more because she was so _desperate_ to eat that she leaned in and took a bite. "You're going to hurt your wrists." He said in a laugh that escaped his lips as he took hold of her shoulder to push her back. Seeing her nose scrunch in pain and hearing the metal drop from her mouth, Jace pulled on the neckline of her shirt. Fear made her eyes widen and skin prickly at the touch.

"No - I'm not…" He shook his head quickly, giving her a look that showed he meant no harm. Clary allowed him to pull on the neckline again, hearing his grunt once he got a look at her shoulder. Even with the dim light in the basement, she knew what he was looking at. It was clear by the expression that crossed his face. He did the same to her other shoulder, only this time his fingers skimmed the skin of it. She winced at the throbbing it gave her. "In the tub, did I do this to you?" He asked her. Clary didn't answer him, only shivering at the unpleasant memory it gave her.

 _" **Next time you want to play on that little line between life and death," he snarled. "Don't half-ass it, because you better hope you're dead when I find you." He threatened, pushing her back roughly to the edge of the tub.**_

"I'm sorry," he sighed.

" _What?"_ She gasped at him. Disbelief clouded her face, not expecting those words to leave his mouth. More or less expecting him to say something like _you deserved it_ or _now you know not to mess with me._ An apology was the _last_ thing on her mind. Jace looked like the guy to shoot first and ask questions later, and since later was _now,_ it was instead _shove_ first and _apologize_ later.

"You're going to apologize for giving me a few bruises on my shoulder and back-" His frown deepened, his hands moving to her hips and behind them. They gently ran across her stitched wrists, grabbing the rope that bound them together. "What are you doing?" She asked while at the same time failing to hide her hope and excitement. His face was contorted in concentration, his brows scrunched together and his mouth set in a tight line. A few grunts escaped his thinned lips, causing a feeling of warmth to sink into her stomach. Her eyelids fluttered and she swallowed hot saliva that had pooled in her mouth. Before she had time to figure out the cause to her body's shift in temperament, she felt her wrists cry out in freedom.

He placed his palms back on her hips and lifted her, moving her to sit on the edge of the mattress while he situated himself behind her. The humid air that hung around them licked up her back. Fingers traced random spots on her skin, leaving her to wonder what he was looking at. Curiosity aside, she was just happy that her arms were _free_.

"I didn't know I had been so rough with you." He whispered, his hands resting on the small of her back before he slid her back to her original spot. She expected him to begin tying her again, surprised when he just sat next to her with the bowl in his lap. The expression that hid his burning eyes and replaced it with a dull amber that was closer to bronze than it was gold… was shame. She'd never seen someone look so guilty before, not even when she'd first woken up in the basement. Not even when he snapped at her for commenting on his smoking. He was back to that person who held her while he tranquilized her, who she was sure had been humming that beautiful song while lay unconscious in the bath tub. That man that had stitched up her wrists and scolded her for what he thought was a suicide attempt. He was here now, looking like was about to bite the bullet of a gun because of something the other man had done.

"You're strong." She gestured at his biceps that were covered by the long sleeves of a gray cotton shirt. "I don't think you… meant to hurt me." His face scrunched up even more, a helpless shadow darkening his eyes and making them sparkle like a black diamond. Using her freed arms, she reached out and grabbed a hold of his calloused hand. "I'm _fine._ " She insisted. He didn't respond, only placing the bowl of food on her thighs that were bare due to the shorts she was wearing. Nodding at his silence, she began to eat the contents of the bowl like he'd take it away from her the instant he'd turn back to that calculating criminal who'd snap at her for being stubborn. Eating so quickly gave her an uncomfortable stretch in her stomach as it grew to accommodate the portions she was swallowing.

"What's your name?" Jace blurted, startling her and nearly making her choke on the food she was shoveling down. He waited patiently for her to regain control of her breathing, looking at her with defeat set in his eyes, though there was interest set in them as well.

"I thought you didn't want to know my name?" She reminded him without smugness that should have been there but strangely wasn't. He sighed, closing his eyes and shrugging.

"I _know_ you don't want me to keep calling me Red. I wouldn't want anyone calling me Jon instead of my real name." He admitted. A twinge of familiarity rang in her ears, though she didn't remember _when_ someone had said the name.

"Wait, is your name Jonathan? Have you been referring to yourself in third person or something?" She asked him with a confused gleam in her green eyes. _He's insane, Oh god, he's insane,_ she chanted to herself while she waited for his answer.

"No, my name's not Jonathan, it's-" He paused, looking at her and silently debating to himself. Clary could hear her the blood rushing to her ears, her hands warming at the thought of knowing his name. Even if she already knew it, him giving her his first name would mean _something._ That he was starting to see her as more of a person than some animal chained in his basement. "Okay, if you tell me your name, I _might_ tell you mine." He propositioned.

"Might? Why would I tell you my name on the probability of knowing yours?" She asked him.

"What if you have a weird name?" He grinned. "It wouldn't be worth it then." He flashed his chip incisor at her as he waited for her reply. _Clary wasn't a weird name, was it?_ She thought to herself. His smile dropped a little as she allowed seconds to tick by in silence. Though she couldn't hear what he was thinking about, she could see the emotions pass through is golden eyes as he stared at her.

"Clarissa… well, people call me Clary. _Called_ now, I guess." She said softly, staring down at her hands before turning and taking in his thoughtful expression. Her feet cried out with a fuzzy numbness as she kneeled in front of him, placing the bowl to her side and resting her hands on her thighs. There was an ache to her body, and she reminded herself that she'd have to be more cautious when moving. _She'd have to get used to being able to move again._

"Jace. My name's Jace."

* * *

 **AN: They know each other's names! Even if it took over sixteen thousand words to get to this point... _A_ _nd,_ he untied her wrists! I know it may seem like he untied her because of his 'undying love' for her, but there's a reason for this that I hinted at in the chapter. Leave your guess in the reviews!**

 **Sorry this chapter was a bit uneventful, and shorter. The next one is a bit more intense, so there had to be _some_ calm before the storm. **

**I love the response this story is getting, and I can't believe I was going to keep it just a file in my documents! There's almost three thousand views to this story with half of those being visitors! That being said, I think we can up our review game a bit. I'll set a goal of 70 for you to reach, which is only 17 reviews. I'm sure you can get there considering the first chapter got over twenty reviews. (Try not to think of it like Jace keeping Clary captive) And I'll upload the next chapter then, this way you can have some say in when the next chapter arrives.**


	6. The Cost of Freedom

**AN: Fair warning, this chapter might get a little... chaotic.**

* * *

" _Come on, Maia! You're going to miss them!" Her brother laughed, running a few steps ahead of her but making sure she was in his grasp in case she tripped. Their parents were busy getting the chairs out of the truck, telling her brother to keep an eye on her. Maia didn't know why they trusted him so much when he was just a few years older._

" _Did it start yet?" She yelled from behind, looking up at the dark sky and seeing nothing but the promise of something great. Her brother laughed at her eagerness. At the sound of her laboured breathing as he sped up ahead. He told her that she'd miss the fire in the sky if she was too slow, so this was her reason for running like she was being chased by rabid dogs._

" _No, but it will if you don't hurry!" He warned. Maia ran faster, nearly reaching his pace with the amount of effort she was putting forth. She knew that the fire was about to start, but couldn't he have slowed down just a little bit?_

" _There, Maia, look!" Daniel said, grabbing her forearm with a force that wasn't necessary. She winced as his fingers dug into his arms, but forgot the pain entirely when, following what had to be the loudest noise she'd ever hear in her life, she gazed into the night sky and saw the impossible. There were sparks in the sky. Some red, some blue, and others a glimmering amber as the reached for the ground. Panic sprouted in her chest as she thought they would all burn in a blaze once they did._

" _Danny! We have to get out of here! We have to tell Momma and Daddy that we're in danger!" She panicked before he hit her in the stomach._

" _Maia, you're being stupid. These are_ fireworks. _They don't touch the ground. The fire would go out before that any of that would happen." He rolled his eyes at her. The muscles in her back relaxed as she watched the sparks evaporate into nothing. He was right. Daniel was always right. And she, of course, was always wrong. Just like he said; because Daniel was always right._

" _They're so pretty." Maia commented with an expression of unyielding interest. In the corner of her eyes did she see her brother nod in agreement. It was strange for him not to challenge her, intimidate her. But, he had to. Because big brothers were supposed to be tough. That's what Daniel told her after he punched her on her fourth birthday - last year - for making him sing._

Daniel. He had the face of an angel. Her mother never saw past it, and the same could be said for her father. Why, because of his face. She heard once that a face could move a thousand ships. But, then again, that was in books. This, this was _real life._ Daniel, oh Daniel, with his pretty face and ugly manner. He'd have a funny way of protecting her. Or, that's what he said he was doing whenever he'd make her cry. " _I'm just showing you what happens when you answer the door to a stranger."_ Was his first excuse when she let one of his friends in. The next was for almost tripping on the sidewalk, so he showed her to watch her footing by pushing her fully.

She remembered the day she taught him a lesson as well.

Their parents had gone out of town, trusting him to watch her. They had been renovating the living room, fixing it up by pulling away the wooden floor boards and taking apart the wallpaper. It was under their asking that Daniel was in charge of her. To make sure she didn't run off with some boy. If they weren't so stubborn to believe that their angelic son could do harm, they would have separated them with miles upon miles of space to protect her from him. To protect her from their poor parenting that resulted in the fucked-up son they hadn't wanted to discipline the first time he pulled on his sister's hair. That was considered a blessing to her now. Now, or then she should say, he would kick her the moment their parents weren't in ear shot.

" _Why do you want to hurt me? Brother's are supposed to love their siblings! Their sisters." She pleaded with him after he sent her flying with a slap. He was laughing, picking the dirt between his nails and the skin he had scraped from her cheek. At church, the pastor had warned them of a hell of pain and suffering. Eternally, he had emphasized. She thought that this was where she was. That she had already died and this was her punishment. An eternity with a sadist who knew nothing of the definition for mercy._

" _You deserve it. You deserve everything I give you." He said simply, leaning down to untie his boots. Maia looked at him curiously, fear still in her eyes as he did the same to the other shoe. He began to unbutton his shirt, looking at her before chuckling. "Go ahead, speak. Say what's on that illiterate mind of yours." He groaned lightly. "Don't worry. I won't hit you… for asking." He assured darkly. Her eyes sparkled with tears that she would soon shed when she finished asking the question. Whatever he had planning for her, it wasn't good when she saw the dark glimmer in his dull eyes._

" _Wh-what are you doing? Are you going to sleep?" She asked him, subtly gesturing towards the night sky that was revealed by the open window. Daniel flashed her a crooked grin that did nothing but make her stomach flip in fear-induced nausea. The only reason he would ever, ever smile was when he was about to do something horrible. He did it before he hung their family dog by the ceiling fan when he was six, he did it when soaked her room in bleach, and he was doing it now._

" _You speak of brotherly loving… and it's about time I give you some." He said softly. Her heart lifted in relief at what he was saying. He was going to treat her right, he was going to move on from that cruel boy to a new, better one. He was going to treat her like a brother should, he was going to love her._

" _Really?" She said with a bright smile. He smiled back, then trailed his hands down his chest and to the zipper of his pants. As elated as she was, their was some confusion as to why he was… undressing in front of her._ Brotherly loving, _her mind warned her as he slid his pants down. He wouldn't do that to her. Hitting her was one thing; the constant slaps, punches and kicks she could handle. But_ this? _Maia shook her head, hoping to scatter the hideous thoughts from her mind before they could take form in her brother. "Daniel, what are you doing?" She gasped as he stood in only his boxers._

" _Come here." He grinned. Maia shook her head walking backwards and entering the living room as he followed her with that same smile plastered to his face. "Come here, sister of mine. Let me show you how much I love you." He continued._

" _No, this is_ wrong." _She pleaded, stumbling on the wooden planks that littered the floor. Daniel's smile fell from his face, replaced by a look of determination. His eyes were pits of darkness as his fists clenched at his sides._

" _Maia, come here._ Now." _He growled, stopping her in her tracks. She was so scared. Scared of denying him, but also scared of what would happened when she gave him back the control he desired. "Fine, I guess you could have enjoyed it too. But_ now, _now you're going to_ suffer. _I'll show you what happens when you deny a man." He swore, approaching her._

" _No!" Maia cried out, grabbing the thing closest to her. Daniel laughed, running a hand through his hair while he found her refusal amusing. "I swear, Daniel. Stay away from me." She said in a high-pitched whisper. He closed his eyes, shaking his head._

" _And what are you going to do with that hammer, sister of mine?" He chuckled, opening his dull eyes with a questioning look apparent on his face. He gave her the time to answer, raising a brow as the seconds ticked by._

" _I'm… I'm_ not _going to let you near me." She answered warily. Daniel snorted, stopping suddenly and lunging at her. Maia cried out in fear, swinging blindly and ignoring the crunch that followed. The sound of blood splattering filled the room._

She'd heard that same sound of droplets hitting a surface. But that was _hours_ ago, before she was screaming out in pain on the kitchen floor while Jace and Jordan tried to reassure her that everything was going to be okay. The screams reminded her of when she had continued to beat him, over and over again with the tool. He'd stopped screaming after a while, when his face was no longer recognizable.

"Goddamn you, Jordan Kyle!" Maia screamed as her uterin wall contracted. He looked at her with shock in his eyes, apologizing under his breath as he was flipping through a parenting book to find something to be concerned about. Jace was kneeling next to her, panting as she squeezed the life out of his hand. She'd never been more terrified in her life. What was she to expect of this situation? She was a criminal! _In labor!_ "Jordan, what are we going to _do_?" She whimpered, and he knew that she wasn't just talking about labor pains. Deep down, he knew as well that they could not keep this baby. It deserved so much more than what fugitive parents could give.

"We'll figure it out." Jordan promised, leaning down to kiss her sweaty head. He'd said that when she'd called him after murdering her brother and here they were, on the run and waiting for the day handcuffs would separate them. Another contraction ripped through her abdomen. There was almost no space of time between this one and the last. She was in a constant stream of pain and worry. How was she ever going to survive this? "Okay, the book says to make sure you aren't in false labor, which is more common than you think-" Her hand skidded across his face, her expression appearing insulted by his assumption.

"Does that answer your question?" Maia growled, challenging him to say _no_. He opened his mouth to say something that was probably going to be an apology, but was interrupted by Jace.

"Don't you have to… Uh, check _down there,_ or something?" Jace stuttered, his golden eyes regretful once he saw the anger boiling to her cheeks.

"What?! NO! I'm not have you guys look _down there_!" She screamed at him, both in pain from another contraction and embarrassment. Jordan sighed next to her, his hands reaching out to her. She recoiled from his impending touch, remembering the fateful night that turned her into a wanted murderer.

"Maia, you're not going to have our baby in your leggings!" He chided. Maia shook her head at him, eyeing the other boy in the room. Jace's face reddened at their silent conversation.

"He is _not_ going to watch me push out our _child,_ Jordan! It's… it's _mortifying!"_ She cried out again in agony, gripping both boys' hands and biting down a scream.

"...I think I have a solution." Jace spoke up after her contraction. Jordan and Maia looked at him expectantly, waiting for this suggestion that would somehow make their situation all the more better. Jordan cocked his head to the side, motioning with his hands for Jace to continue. Instead of answering, the blond stood up and sprinted towards the basement door... where _she_ was. Maia could hear him bounding down the steps, racing up them a few moments later with smaller, _slower_ steps behind him. "Don't panic," he began as he approached the couple.

"Jace?" Maia questioned, her heart pounding when she saw the redhead trailing behind him. _Had he lost his mind?_ Jordan scowled at Maia, and only now did she remember not to use their names. _What was she supposed to call him? Blondy?_ Another scream out of her and the redhead was trying to pull her way back to the basement.

"You're crazy!" The girl cried out at Jace, looking at him with her sharp green eyes and searching for some sanity in his face. The muscles in Maia's abdomen clenched together tightly, coiling and springing out till she was out of breath and sure that she'd die from the pain alone. Besides the fact that she was supposed to squeeze another person out of her… nether regions. "What the _hell_ do I look like to you? A fucking midwife?" She screeched, her eyes landing on Maia's massive stomach.

"All I'm asking you to do is make the situation a lot less uncomfortable for her. We're guys, and you're a girl, like her. Just… talk some sense into her!" Jace pleaded, grabbing her hand and Maia swore she saw him intertwine their fingers. _What's up with him? Isn't he supposed to be an asshole?_ She thought to herself before her unborn child gave a sharp kick inside of her.

The redhead gazed at her, biting her lip and looking trapped.

"O...kay." She answered, approaching Maia with hesitation. Maia smiled at her, taking her hand as if to absorb support from the redhead. And suddenly, she snapped her head at the two men who were stationary with terrified expressions. Jace had his hands reaching behind him and cupping the counter, while Jordan had his eyes shut tight like he did when he was praying. "Don't just _stand there!"_ The other girl growled, her lips pulling back into a snarl. Maia was shocked and a little wary that this was the girl that was going to hold her hand while she pushed out the next generation. "Wet a towel with cool water, get some blankets, a bag or bowl or whatever to put the placenta in. _Just do something!"_ She continued.

"Since when the hell did _you_ become in charge? Aren't you supposed to be the prisoner?" Jordan snapped at her. Maia scowled at his outburst. The redhead looked at him with a burning rage in her eyes, making everyone in the room silent.

"Since you _fucked your girlfriend without a condom_." She answered simply, turning her attention back to Maia with a content smile, as if she'd been waiting to say the words for a very, very long time. Jordan growled at her before trudging over to the fridge and pulling a bottle of water out of it. "Maia, is it? Okay, my name's Clary. Let's for a second pretend I'm not some captive and try to imagine that I'm a doctor that you caught on casual Friday." The girl, Clary, grinned.

"How do you know what to do?" Maia whispered, fearing that this girl was going to wing the birth of her child.

"My friend, he's an EMT. Every now and then there would be a couple who'd waited till the last minute to go to the hospital or not have a way of getting there. He'd have to assist in delivery, and would tell our circle of friends about in _great detail._ Told us the whole fucking story." Clary grimaced. "I think… I think I have a good idea of what to expect."

"I can tell you what to expect! A baby, Maia. We're expecting a baby." Jordan growled, bring the bottle of water to Maia's lips before another contraction slipped through.

"Jordan, I think you should be nicer to her. She'd going to deliver our baby. _Our baby,_ Jordan." Maia chided after a few sips. She nearly choked on the water as another contraction tore through her lower half. Clary moved between her legs, gripping the waistline of Maia's leggings. "Wha-what are you doing?" Maia worried, not wanting the entire room to see how the other half works.

"I have to remove your pants and underwear, isn't it obvious?" Clary responded calmly.

"Watch your mouth!" Jordan barked. She saw a shiver pass through Clary and didn't know why _that_ sentence scared her when Jordan had been yelling at her since Jace brought her from the basement.

"Jordan, shut the hell up and let her do her thing!" Jace snarled, surprising everyone including the redhead. Maia hadn't known Jace for long, but she'd never seen him snap at Jordan like that. She'd never seen him snap at _anyone_ like that. What made the blond boy tick was beyond her knowledge, but the more he let the more she found herself wrong about him. One moment she could hear him and Clary having a scream-off in the basement, and the next… he was _defending_ her? "Here's a wet towel, I don't know what you want me to do with it, so here." Jace said, giving Clary a towel.

"This is good, but I also need a plastic bag or something like that. And blankets for the baby when it's born." She said, blindly handing the wet towel to Maia. "Use this to cool down." Clary told her. Maia did as she said, patting her sweaty face with the cool towel.

"Why?" Jordan asked her.

"For the placenta." She answered him, then busied herself with taking off Maia's leggings. Maia held in her pride while Clary slid them down, along with her panties. Jordan hissed at Jace to look away. There was a strange suction feel to her stomach and she had no clue as to what it was.

"Holy _shit,_ babe." Jordan gasped, sliding down to the floor and cupping Maia's hand. His eyes were flooded with worry, concerned about what he saw.

"Um, unless you have some explaining to do… I think you should start pushing. _Now._ " Clary commanded, spreading Maia's legs despite her outcry. The pressure was immense, reminding her of when she'd lost her virginity to the boy holding her hand. Only a _thousand_ times worse. As if the baby was clawing its way out instead of allowing her to push naturally.

"What if I can't? What if something goes wrong and she doesn't make it?" Maia asked her, hugging her engorged stomach protectively. Jordan kissed her cheek, whispering words of comfort that weren't doing much but make her cry because she'd dragged him into this life. If she hadn't killed her brother, he would have gone to college and have been in the process of making something out of himself. He was reduced to being a guard dog to Jonathan, who hadn't the faintest idea about her pregnancy.

"I'm not going to promise you that your baby will be the perfect image of newborn health, but if you _don't_ push, I _can_ promise you that there won't be a chance of that ever happening." Clary warned.

After that, time seemed to go agonizingly slow at all the wrong moment. Like, when she was screaming at the top of her lungs trying to get out what Clary claimed were the baby's shoulder. _Do it for the baby, for the baby, for the baby,_ Maia told herself each moment she felt herself slipping. Or when Clary shouted at Jordan for not telling her the two had never been to a doctor since they learned of Maia's pregnancy. Jace was holding Maia's other hand, and she swore time also stopped when she popped each of his fingers when she squeezed. The only time she enjoyed the eternity in each second was when shrill cry of an infant, when Clary had smiled and handed the baby over her.

"That's our son, Maia. You did it." Jordan whispered as he leaned in close, his chin resting on her shoulder as they looked at the baby boy.

"Scott Kyle." She croaked, brushing her thumb across his tiny chin that was only the promise of a prominent jawline. His hair was a mass of brown curls. Unlike hers, they were tame, bordering on waves. He had Jordan's perfect nose, but her soft, full lips that had never looked more perfect on another being. Not even her. The skin of his forehead was flaky and bluish, but still she knew his skin was going to be tanned. He was the color of wet sand on the beach. He was her paradise, her happiness.

And she could not have him.

Their son deserved more than no proof of education, toys that she had to make because going to the store was dangerous, and no one to play with. He deserved a room of his own, a crib to sleep in, not a pile of blankets. All she could offer him was a love that could shatter diamond, warm arms always open to hold him.

Just when it couldn't possibly get slower, time seemed to speed up. It was whirring past her when Clary was panicking about an excess of blood. When Jace was asking her what the hell hemorrhaging was. When a familiar blond boy walked into the kitchen and laid his eyes on the chaos. When a flower of crimson sprouted in Jordan's chest as he tried to explain what was going on. She could barely hear him whisper out the promise to love her in the afterlife before time allowed him to bleed out. A blanket was beginning to cover her by the time Jace took the baby from her arms, Jonathan smacking him on the back of the head and saying something like _get that mutt out of this house._ Clary was sobbing, out of all of them who had every right to cry, she was sobbing. Maia heard the basement door open and a continuous banging noise that grew fainter and farther. But none of it mattered. She could no longer feel the floor under her, or the blood gushing out between her thighs. The blanket that had begun to cover her was now wrapped around her limp body, lulling her to sleep. In her last moments, she thought about if this was all worth killing her brother for. If this was the cost of escaping him. Whether or not she agreed, she couldn't deny the end result.

Because, for once, Maia Roberts was free.

* * *

 **AN: So... Jonathan's back.**


	7. Guardian Angel

"Okay, don't freak out on me. Right now, I guess I'm in charge. You might be a little concerned about that and may want to voice your opinion, but for the time being you might want to keep it at an inside voice." Jace spoke to the infant who was staring blindly at him. Scott Kyle wasn't even thirty minutes old, and he was already an orphan. "Good? Are we cool? Maybe, no?" Jace asked the baby who puckered his lips and sucked on his tongue. "You're hungry? Aren't you? Can you wait a few more minutes?" He asked Scott, who had no way of answering him other than letting out a shrill cry inside the living room of Bat Velasquez's house.

A ding from the microwave alerted him that the bottle was done. Jace set the baby down on the couch, then dashed to the medium-sized kitchen and pulled the warm bottle out of the microwave. The baby was screaming loudly by the time he'd finished testing the milk on his wrists like it had said in the stupid baby book Jordan had bought. There was a bag of formula and diapers in the kitchen. For a first timer, Jace figured he'd done a good job putting a diaper on a baby. Not that he'd want to do that ever, ever again.

"I'm coming, I'm coming!" Jace assured the infant, scooping him up in his arms and watching in astonishment as he sucked on the bottle almost instantly. A laugh escaped his lips before the returning footsteps drew his attention. Bat was standing under the arch that led to the hallway. He scratched at the sleeve of his long sleeve shirt, obviously holding in a laugh as he observed Jace and the baby.

"Please, all I'm asking is that you watch him. Your sister has a kid, so she _must_ know what to do? Right?" Jace pleaded with the wary Bat. Scott was wiggling around in the blanket his mother had knitted for him. Glancing down at the newborn, Jace saw that his hair resembled curling honey, appearing feather soft. A few grunts escaped the infant's throat as he suckled on his liquid meal. _Gross..._ Jace grimaced at the smell of baby formula. "I can't... Jordan and Maia wanted to keep him. The least I can do is know where he is instead of sending him off with social services." Jace continued.

"What about Jon? Won't he find out that you disobeyed his orders?" Bat questioned. "I _won't_ be caught in the crossfire."

"He won't find out. Just, please. Please promise me you'll look after him." Jace said, swearing that he'd grovel if it meant that Scott had somewhere to stay. As badly as he knew he'd get punished if Jonathan found out that he hadn't gotten rid of the infant, Jace wasn't going to let a stranger raise his friends' kids. They wouldn't die in vain.

Bat let out a long sigh, gazing at the baby in Jace's arms. "Give 'em here." He groaned, although with a smile. Bat reached out for the infant, easily holding him unlike Jace who had to take a few seconds to adjust his head. "You're lucky he's cute, because there's no way my sister is watching an ugly baby." Jace smiled at him, a slight relief in his chest that didn't last once he thought of the frail girl at home.

"Thank you, Bat." Jace spoke sincerely, struggling to speak over the sudden tightness of his throat. Bat nodded at him, rocking Scott in his arms and stroking his forehead with his free hand. This was as much as he could give the infant, for now at least.

"I'm here for you, man." Bat swore, continuing to rock the baby. Jace made his way to the front door, hoping to do so without showing how much emotion he'd been shoving down since watching the multiply deaths in his kitchen. "Jace?" Bat called out from behind him.

"The baby, does it have a name?"

"Yes," Jace nodded quickly. "Scott. Scott Kyle. But Kyle's his last name because Jordan's his fath-"

"Jace, I got it." Bat laughed. Jace broke out in a grin, looking across the room and at the infant, promising that he'd never let anything happen to him. He owed his parents that much. Their legacy wouldn't end on a kitchen floor.

* * *

"Did you do it?" Jonathan muttered between sips of his beer. Jace nodded his head reverently, trying to keep his golden eyes anywhere but in the pits of Jonathan's dark ones. The house was noticeably colder when he walked in. Jonathan was even wearing his jacket. Though that might have something to do with dragging the deceased out of the house. Looking at the floor, his stomach tightened at the pinkish stain that was sprayed all around the kitchen. There was a deep maroon stain, belonging to Maia and where she had bled out, but then there was another stain a few feet away with no clear direction as to where it went. _Jordan._

"Why do you look so… sad? No wonder Michael had enough of you; _you're too damn soft._ " Jonathan chuckled, taking another swig of his beer. Jace nodded again, turning his eyes to the basement door that had a deep crack running through it. _Clary,_ something inside him shook at the thought of anything bad happening to her. Jace didn't know _why,_ because she hadn't even suffered close to what… other's had. He tried to shift his mind away from the thought, of both her and the basement. "You know, you're lucky I'm as strong as I am, she would've never shut up." The other boy continued, flashing a crooked grin at the darker blond. _There it was again, that protective shudder in his body._ It was as close to his fight or flight instinct. Now, it was _save or join._ Join as in stay by _her_ side. All this emotional toll in one day was giving him a headache.

"What… what did you do?" Jace tried to sound normal. Jonathan shot him a curious glance, not quite suspicious.

"She was all shaky and stuff," Jonathan scowled, his ivory skin being marred with wrinkles of disgust. "Can you believe she's _his_ daughter? Ridiculous, right?" He rolled his eyes in the direction of the door. Jace nodded again, which didn't satisfy the other blond. "Anyways, back to shaky. It was like she was having a panic attack! It made it hard to get her through the basement door, so I just shoved her down the stairs. Got quiet after that, thank God." Jonathan sighed, his hands loose around his beer. Jace's fingers dug into his palms. His vision was blurred by a deep scowl.

"And if _that_ wasn't much of a task, it sure was when I had to get _thing one_ and _thing two_ out of the house." Gesturing towards the pink stains that ruined the white tile of the kitchen.

"Thing one and thing two?" Jace said gruffly. Jonathan eyes the stains again, pointing at them with the hand that cupped his beer.

"You know, because of the red." He laughed to himself, stretching his back out and sighing in relief at the popping joints. Jace feared him. If he feared anything at all. Jonathan had been with Michael as long as Jace had, but somewhere along the line his spirit cracked and left this shell of a man. This _monster._ Jace wasn't much better of a person, not really. Though there was a quality to him that Jonathan didn't have.

His humanity.

"Do you think we'll have to move?" Jace asked him. The look on Jonathan's face told him that he was currently debating it.

"I don't know, I kinda like the cold here. The bigger the jackets, the easier it is to conceal a gun. Plus, if we ever get wind of the police, it'll take them a while to get up the mountain with the blizzards. _And,_ you can hide a _ton_ of bodies in the snow. Better than burning, eh?" Jonathan grinned. Jace shook his head, not wanting to delve deep on _that_ subject. Jace wasn't really… the murdering type. Of course, he'd hurt people. Lots of people. Jonathan didn't hurt people.

He just ended them.

"I… guess?" Jace shrugged, tapping his foot on the cold tile. He shivered. How many degrees had the house dropped in temperature? Twenty? Thirty? Forty, even. Jace's palms were pale in the coldness and his face matched the color when he remembered that Clary was wearing shorts the last time he saw her. _She must be freezing!_ "Hey, why's it so cold in here?" He asked Jonathan.

"When I went downstairs when I got here, there was some mattress thingy. Did you know Jordan and Maia had put that down there?" Jonathan randomly asked and Jace felt his heart stutter in fear.

"What? They didn't tell me that." He muttered to himself loud enough so the other boy heard him. Jonathan nodded, sipping at what had to be the last of his drink and then placing it in the sink. _There's a trash literally right there,_ Jace groaned to himself.

"Huh. Well, they did place one down there for her to sleep on." The light blond replied thoughtfully. "I think they were growing soft on her, feeling guilty. And the man had the _nerve_ to look surprised when I shot him!" Jace's face pallored till he was as white as the snow falling from the northern sky.

"You… you shot him because of the mattress?" Jace whispered. He tried his hardest not to sound horrified, but the fact that his friend was killed in front of his child… was all his fault. It was all his fault that there was a deep stain on the kitchen tile. _All his fault._

Jonathan scoffed angrily, reaching for another beer from a brown bag. "He was bound to go soft at some point, Jace! Do you remember what Michael told us? _The only thing soft is a loose end._ Do you _know_ what happens to loose ends?" Jace swore that what he'd just heard was a threat. Anything was a threat when he knew Jonathan had a short fuse. His face was already red with aggravation and disgust.

"They get cut-"

"They get cut off!" Jonathan interrupted. Jace shook his head, looking at the ground and taking deep breaths. If Clary was awake, she was probably able to hear what they were saying and he didn't want to panic her further. If he, a man that had seen more death than life, was shaken up then she was obviously _traumatized_. "And to answer your question: it's cold because I want to remind her that those two aren't - _weren't -_ in charge. Yeah, let's see her try and be comfortable down there in shorts and some flimsy shirt." He grinned, while Jace did his best to hide a scowl.

"What if she get's hypothermia?" Jace huffed out. The other boy chuckled at whatever he was thinking.

"Jace, do you remember how rough we had it? We had to _sleep outside_. And she'll thank us for it when she's tougher. Not soft. We can't have another loose end around here. I don't care _how_ great her upbringing was. That'll change after a while. You'll see." Jonathan was practically mumbling to himself now.

"Yeah, we'll see."

* * *

"Okay! I've got some sandwiches." He said loud enough so that Jonathan heard him. Even if the blond was in bed like he said he'd be, Jace took precaution so that Jonathan didn't think he was just chatting with Clary. After a few seconds of pausing and listening for a reply, he thought: _to hell with the sandwiches!_

His heart thudded without rhythm as he set the plate of food down on the first steps and bounded down the stairs and into the darkness. His hands grasped for the bulb that hung loosely from the ceiling, tugging on the switch firmly when he did. He sprung back a few feet at the slumped figure in a chair, giving his heart a few moments to regain its tempo before approaching her.

The entire drive back, he was worrying that Jonathan had done something horrible to her. Tortured her for being up from the basement when he stumbled into the apartment. He bit back nausea as he heard the ghost of the bullet pass through Jordan's chest. He thought that seeing it so many times before would've made seeing what was his only friend get shot have no effect on him. He was _wrong_.

When Jordan fell to the ground and whispered his goodbyes to Maia, Jace had never felt more emotion pass through him… like the bullet in Jordan's chest. And _Maia,_ that wasn't supposed to happen. She wasn't supposed to bleed out on the kitchen floor with her son in her arms. Jace had planned for a somewhat normal birth, and then send the couple on their way towards somewhere safe, away from Jonathan. They _knew_ Jonathan had no mercy, especially when it came to the innocent. Instead, Jonathan would be sickened by their stupid belief in the good of everyone around them. How did he know this? Because he knew Jonathan better than anyone.

Better than Michael did, that was for sure.

She had her back curved awkwardly against the chair, head tilted back and touching the wall, her hands tied behind the chair. In fact, there was rope wrapped around her entire body and legs. Although, the knots were a bit tighter than what he prefered. She would probably beg him to loosen them up with her big, _beautiful green eyes that reminded him of emeralds…_ His eyes widened at his insane thoughts, shaking them away the best he could. For now, she was just lucky that she was getting fed. This was as far as he could go without Jonathan snapping at him. Funny how they considered each other brothers though it was clear who was in charge.

Her face was smoothed out, and he fought against brushing a curl that snaked across her forehead. The Wayland that Michael had trained him to be barked orders for him to see if she was actually _still alive._

" **Next time you want to play on that little line between life and death," he snarled. "Don't half-ass it, because you better** _ **hope**_ **you're dead when I find you."** He felt guilt occupy the cold space in his chest, regretting the fear he gave her. Jace of all people knew what it fear truly felt like. He saw it in her eyes when he'd threatened her, and in doing so she reminded him of a younger, more innocent version of himself. Michael had been the one to burn the sentence into Jace's head. With the words leaving his mouth, he saw himself cowering in the bathtub instead of the redhead.

His fingers skimmed across the plains of her being that the rope hadn't managed to cover. Searching for the bumps that signaled bruising. There were a few on the backs of her arms, close together as if someone had gripped her with a firm hold. _Of course someone did, idiot._ For precaution, he dipped his hands under her shirt and roamed her back blindly, trying to determine what was her spin and what were injuries. A few spots were like packets of fluid, and she whimpered in her sleep when he pressed hard enough to make sure that they were bruises.

Back to her arms, there were areas that were rubbed raw. _When she fell down the stairs…_ Her face was so far intact, with nothing more than a busted lip and a cut on her right eyebrow. There were some spots on her cold legs that had bruises with cuts slashing them, as if the impact from the steps made her skin swell enough to tear. As for her stomach, he'd check that when she was awake and aware of what he was doing. For now, all he could do was pray that she wouldn't give herself rope burn with as much as she often moved in her sleep.

When her head moved again, he saw something on the wall that frightened him. Where her head had previously been, was a red stain. Dried of course, but it was obvious that she had a head wound. Fighting the fear that was bubbling up in his throat, he cupped the back of her neck and held her head in his hands, checking her scalp and surveying the damage. It wasn't too severe, nothing that he'd have to stitch. A nervous thought crossed his mind and made his fists clench. _Did Jonathan hit her?_ Most of her body had taken damage to the front, except for her back, which could have been the cause of her first impact with the steps until she might have flipped herself. That could explain the head wound...

 _God, she was so cold._ He shrugged off his jacket and placed it over her shoulder where it covered the majority of her body. He couldn't do much for her legs though. If the threat of her waking up wasn't immediate, Jace would be rubbing the skin of her calves to warm them as well.

His pulse was smooth now, what Michael had taught him to keep it. He had broken one of his rules though: he showed emotion. It was clear on his face that he was distraught when he practically collapsed to her side. Her skin was so cold, so lifeless that it scared the shit out of him even though no part of her was his. More the fact that she was beginning to own _him._ Seeing her so still, it reminded him of when she had collapsed after such a loss of blood.

Whether she was telling the truth or not, it upset Jace to know that she had almost left… him? No, she didn't have a morsel of care for the monster she saw him as. The hypocrite that he was. The little boy that wreaked with fear was frowning at Jace now. Angry that he'd broken his promise.

 _I had to survive,_ Jace reasoned; lightly stroking the redhead's cheekbone. She stirred slightly, rolling her head to the side and curling her body to where he lost sight of her face. He looked down at her tied wrists, battling with himself and thinking to what Michael would say at his weakness. This _softness_ toward a girl that he'd barely known for a week. Was it because she was different than the other woman that had occupied the house? No, Maia wasn't some crazy chick that Jordan had picked up, but she wasn't anything close to the innocence that radiated from _her._

 _She was… perfect._ Jace frowned at the thought, considering himself sick for thinking it. He'd kidnapped her! The least he could do was keep his eyes from wandering South of her face. This girl, this small girl with her flaming curls and cheeks tinged with blush that made him want to know want embarrassing thoughts she was thinking, was now making his fingers burn to hold her. Protect her like he'd wished someone would have protected him all those years ago. Had prevented him from earning all those scars that riddled his body. He swore to himself that he wouldn't let another fleck of repaired skin cover her physique.

"I'll protect you. Whether it be from yourself, or me."

* * *

 **AN: What do you guys think about Jace's point of view? I wanted to do this chapter in his point of view because you guys deserve it with the time spent reading this story and the addition of that time spent reviewing.**

 **And as for baby Scott, I hope none of you thought that I'd actually kill him. I wasn't going to have Jace report him to social services either, so leaving him with Bat was the best I could do.**

 **Jace isn't professing his undying love for her, he doesn't really know what love is. The only thing he really knows is protection, so he's going to try and give her that.**

 **Some of you might be wondering why Jace was basically Jonathan's lacky. His relationship is similar to that in City of Lost Souls. There were a few hints of their shared past but it's obvious who the dominant one is. Anyone want to take a guess at who Michael is?**


	8. Responsible

"Clary, if you can see this, if you're still out there… baby, we love you. Your Mum loves you. We're all waiting, baby. We'll… we'll never lose hope. Give us a sign that you're still out there. Please, please come home." Jocelyn sobbed in front of the camera. The new anchor took the microphone back, concluding the story as a candle vigil was going on. Angels made entirely of small lights were decorating the neighbors yards in tribute to her missing daughter. The holidays showed Jocelyn no mercy, meaning that this Christmas was going to a lonely one. Of course she had Luke, looking out for her, but he was lost in this trance, feeding her details like he was a soldier reporting to his commander. He wasn't even here _now_ , saying that he had something to do that required him to fly back to his homeland: London. Whatever his cause, it couldn't have been worth leaving his grieving wife at home. Leaving another child they shared together waiting as well.

"Mom, do you think Clary heard you on the news?" Grayson asked her, his face emotionless as he gazed at the crowd in his front yard. No houses were lit by artificial lighting, only candles. The street was packed with everyone carrying their own small flames, dressed jackets and knit caps. She thought that _he_ would return, at least for this. But there was still a missing face amongst the crowd of strangers. At least they showed more compassion for her daughter than he ever did.

"... maybe." Jocelyn sighed, wrapping an arm around his strong shoulders despite him being a good head taller than her. He should've been out skiing with his girlfriend instead of wondering if his sister was to ever come home He had a wool jacket that smelled of his father's aftershave and a pair of winter boots so that he wouldn't slip on the icy pavement. Jocelyn had gotten a letter in the mail, from the school, saying that her son was failing a few classes. _If he even showed up for school at all._

"Sebastian said he'd help me pass out flyers." Her son mumbled, looking down at the flame of his candle that made his crazy brown hair appear like tree branches sticking out. _Sebastian,_ he was different than the man Clary had introduced her to. The last time Jocelyn spoke to him, he smelled of liquor and was noticeably thinner. If he didn't have muscle to show his physical strength then he'd be skin wrapped around bone. She was sure of it. "I - I want to help search for her too."

"Grayson, the entire country is out looking for her. I'm sure they'll do just fine without you." Jocelyn responded calmly, opposed to her son's scoff at her response. He turned sharply on the heel of his boot, slamming the front door behind him as he left her. _Great, now he wants to leave me too…_

They'd been arguing constantly, mainly Grayson telling her that he'd go out and find his sister if she wouldn't.

" _Next year I'll be sixteen! You can't keep me trapped here forever!" Grayson shouted angrily, trying to compensate for the water blue eyes he sported. "I'm going to go and find her, Mom. She'll thank_ me _for keeping hope. Not lighting some damn candles to keep her safe!" Jocelyn was appalled by her son's language._

" _Grayson Henry Graymark, don't you_ ever _talk to your mother like that!" Jocelyn snapped, biting back a scream as her son stormed off into his room, turning his music up high and humanity on low._

About thirty minutes of silence, people were beginning to leave. They all wore somber faces, patting Jocelyn on the back. Saying things like _we'll keep her in our prayers._ She didn't _want_ their pity. She didn't want to know how many people were prowling the streets, looking for her daughter as the temperatures dropped further and further. The only thing she cared about was her daughter that was out there.

"Jocelyn?" Someone called out in a timid voice. She lifted her gaze, staring at a small crowd of people Clary's age. She recognized a few of them. Simon, of course, was the one to call out her name. Standing next to him was a girl that she swore she recognized from the few times she visited _him_ in London. Though, she had more curve and not such prominent cheekbones so it must have been a coincidence. The boy next to her brought back more memories with his deep blue eyes, memories that she had to discard across the ocean. Even if she hadn't seen him on that many occasions, the bare face of Magnus Bane was a shock. Jocelyn was used to Clary's stunning friend, but without a dark mascara to border his eyes that were a mix of yellow and green, he seemed almost too normal. Too plain.

Magnus was holding up a man whose face was buried in his chest. He'd been crying so long over the past months that she knew his weeping as well as his voice. Sebastian Verlac was a mess as he struggled to maintain his balance. He was a poor excuse to the sturdy man that had occupied her daughter's world. In front of her was not a person, but a sniveling mess whose shoulder that couldn't remain still as he heaved with sobbs. _He was worse than Jocelyn._

"We just wanted to offer our deepest condolences." The girl's face contorted in pain. Simon hugged her close to him, whispering something in her ear before letting her go and approaching Jocelyn. She watched as he ran a mittened hand through his brown waves, discarding any frost that had gathered during the current mist. His glasses had water stains but he didn't seem to care.

"Jocelyn, if it wouldn't be a bother, we'd like to spend Christmas eve with you and Grayson." Simon asked, glancing at the shrine made of teddy bears and unlit candles with saints decorated their glass. A few people from a church nearby had done that for her, not that she would take it down if it didn't please her. The more hope there was for her daughter, the better.

"Sure, sure!" Jocelyn said with more excitement than necessary. Having Clary's friends over could help fill the gaping hole her daughter had left. Not to mention make the unbearable silence that had become of mother and son. All Grayson wanted to do was talking about Clary… all he wanted to do was remind Jocelyn of how little progress they had made in finding her. When Simon approached the front door, Grayson opened it for him, slinking into the boys arms and sobbing loudly. Simon was practically his older brother, he'd been friends with Clary since he moved in and had been an active member of the family. No, he wasn't the same as either Luke or Clary, but having him here would mend the wounds both people had inflicted in their absence.

After midnight, fireworks erupted in the night sky.

Another day without Clary.

Some time after everyone had fallen asleep in the living room with contentful smiles on their faces, Jocelyn had wandered outside and perched herself on the bench near the shrine. The lite candles provided a meager amount of warmth but it didn't matter to Jocelyn. She'd been numb since her daughter had vanished without a trace. Well, all there was to prove that she'd been kidnapped was the poorly sketched face of a suspect. Isabelle had practically sketched an Abercrombie model, not a _criminal._ Nonetheless, his face was burned into Jocelyn mind. His blond hair and hazel eyes, bulky stature. This was the man that could be responsible for taking her _daughter_.

* * *

She bit down the urge to run her hand across his forehead and swipe at his amber curls. Jonathan was gone for tonight, partying or taking care of business, whatever he said to Jace was lost on her ears. _Jace… he was so different._ He actually looked at her whereas Jonathan would study her like an ore he had mined. This was one of the few times she was allowed out of the basement and she wouldn't spend it staring at her captor. _As beautiful as he was…_

"I used to think the funny noises fireworks made was God groaning in pain as they defeated him." Jace said as they stared out of the kitchen window. From what she could see, they were on some sort of hill or mountain. Isolated from the rest of the world, from her family that so dearly missed her. Oh, and another one of the few things she got to do today was watch Tv, _that sure wasn't pleasant._

"What made you stop thinking that? You know, besides the obvious: growing up." She asked him, taking notice that he was no longer staring at the fireworks and at _her._ Clary swallowed embarrassment and hoped that her blush would seem to be the result of the cold temperatures Jonathan kept the house in. At least Jace let her wear his jacket when Jonathan was gone.

"There isn't a God." Jace answered with traces of anger in his voice. The more time she spent with him, the more time she got to learn his traits and personality. Besides being a sarcastic asshole when she was eating in the basement, he had this problem of shoving things down and locking them away for later. He'd throw on this mask that hid what he was feeling and it absolutely frustrated her. Like now. When he was angry at the world for a reason she wouldn't understand.

"Why are you _so passive aggressive?"_ She groaned, glancing at the beer Jace was drinking. The strongest thing she'd taken in her life was Coke. The drink. Seeing as she didn't know _how long she'd live,_ drinking didn't seem like such a bad thing anymore. Who could blame her for putting aside her captivity for a while and pretend that she was a regular person getting all the buzz she could from a six pack? Enjoying a good time with her boyfriend-

 _What the hell?_

"Passive aggressive? I think you've become to mistake me for Jonathan." Jace snorted, taking a large drink of his fizzy beer. Clary licked her lips, wanting a small taste of it. Just a taste, that'd be it.

"No, Jonathan's just aggressive. You like to make a dramatic fuss of it. He just hits me. Shows me what he's thinking." Clary shrugged, looking down at her thighs that had no coverage because of her shorts. Something that sounded like a growl rumbled in Jace's throat and he slid something across the cheap table. It hit the sleeve of his jacket, but she didn't look up yet. She didn't want to see that cold look in his eyes that he wore whenever she mentioned Jonathan's abuse.

"I - I'm _trying_ to protect you. He doesn't hit you when I'm around, and that's because of _me_." Jace insisted from his chair. The weight that the jacket put on her shoulder as it hung limply to her body made her aware of the fresh bruises Jonathan had planted on her back like flowers in a garden. Each time he grabbed the legs of the chair she'd been tied to and slammed the back of it against the basement wall as a form of intimidation, the force was strong enough to cause bodily harm.

Clary tore her eyes from her legs and at the object Jace had slid across the table. _Beer._

"Are you sure?" She whispered, taking the cold glass in her hands and wrapping her fingers around it as if it were Jonathan's neck.

"Jonathan's coming back in the morning and you deserve it." Jace answered with the ghost of a grin on his lips. Deserve it, as if this her captivity was a trial and every now and then she'd be rewarded with watching _The Big Bang Theory_ and drinking apple juice. As badly as she wanted to take the drink and smash it on the kitchen floor, she angrily twisted off the cap and took a rather large slurp for her first time. _It was awful, as if someone had both kicked and urinated on her tongue._ But it wasn't bad after that. Each gulp got better and better and Jace's smile grew wider and wider till the room began to tilt on its axis.

"I don't understand why you guys have me here. Why not kill me? Save money on food?" She said languidly, shaking her head of the vertigo that was poking at it. Jace sighed, running a hand through his head… no, _hair. He ran his hand through his hair. And, dear God, you're trashed. On Christmas Day._

"You're _special_." He insisted. Jace stood up, gripping the table lightly and walked over to her. He walked over to her and stretched out his hand as if to take her home. _NO! You'll never see home again!_ Her mind screamed at her. She was in his arms with her nose buried in his chest that smelled of dingy soap and evergreens. It reminded her of how Grayson smelled after he helped set up the Christmas tree with her and Luke. "I hate myself." Jace whispered to her with one hand resting between her shoulder blades while the other snaked around to hold her waist.

"Why?" Clary asked in the same gentle tone as him. Her eyes closed to the sound of his heart beating, the feel of his jeans on her bare thighs.

"Why not?" Jace prompted. She pulled back from him and observed his pleading eyes and the way he nervously sucked in his cheeks. As if her answer could effect him.

"You're…" She could only think of one word that would describe him. The one word that would echo in her mind each time she saw him; which was every day. "Perfect." Clary sighed defeatedly.

"It's a mask. You see me: with my charming face and think that I could never be so cruel as to keep you locked in a basement for the foreseeable future. I'm no better than Jonathan. In fact, I'm _worse._ He admits to his wicked ways, while I deny them. I deny that I keep such a beautiful creature hidden from the world. I'm a monster, just as I was raised to be." His voice was tight with emotions that he refused to feel. "You must hate me. _You have to hate me."_ He insisted. Her mind scrambled to listen to what he said, but only returned with his last sentence.

She bit her lip, placing her palms on his chest and deciding whether her opinion mattered to him. Whether he'd remember it all in the morning when they'd be suffering from a hangover. "I do." Clary admitted. His face fell to stare at the miniscule space between them. "I do, I swear I tell myself that each time you come down to the basement and feed me, warm me with your jacket and refuse to treat me as an object. But my mind isn't connected to my… my _heart_." Even she had trouble making sense of what she'd just told him. And yet there was this shimmer that passed through his golden eyes, warming her thumping heart.

"You _don't_ hate me?" Jace repeated with doubt.

"If I did, then it wouldn't make sense of what I was thinking right now." She admitted. Disbelief crossed his features, morphing his face into a worried confusion.

"What are you thinking?" He asked hesitantly

Her palm skimmed up his shirt and rested on his collarbone; her index finger running along the prominence of it before gazing into his waiting eyes. "I want you to treat me like I a person. Like I won't break if you hold me a little tighter, touch me a little rougher. I… I want you to kiss me." She confessed. Before she could begin to take it back, his hand left her hip and moved to tilt her chin up to face him. His eyes were an intense flame, daring her to say that she was lying to him. To take it all back before he did something he'd regret. To conclude that this was the all in tribute to her fuzzy head. When she didn't, he brought his mouth down to her ear and growled a wanton growl that made her shudder with need.

His nose nudged her chin, pushing her head back so that he could brush his lips against her severely chapped ones. There was a pregnant pause as the two of them realized what they were doing, though it didn't stop him from planting firmly to her lips, moaning into her mouth and down her throat as if she made the deep noise. Clary's hands gripped at the base of his neck and tangled into his hair so tightly that it must've hurt him but he never let his pain show. Both of Jace's hands locked on her hips and lifted her to where she had her legs wrapped around her hips. A whimper escaped her lips when he pulled back and brought a stronger force to his kiss, his tongue delving between her walls and mingling with hers.

Jace stumbled forward, placing her to sit partially on the table but she still had to hold onto him to maintain balance. The position allowed him to run his hands down her milky thighs without her slipping, and when his hands reached her ankles, he bent down and locked them around his waist as he continued to ravish her mouth. Her fingernails scraped his back that was covered by his cotton shirt and cupped his throat as if she were to strangle him. She felt his pulse under the pad of her thumb, assuring her that all of this was _real_. That she was practically feeding off of the man that had taken her as property.

He pushed off his jacket from her shoulders to form some makeshift cushion. Clary couldn't tell if they were fighting or passionately kissing, but feeling him hard and desperate against her inner thigh told her it was a mix of the two.

 _Stop! Think of your boyfriend!_ Her mind screamed. Clary pushed him back hard, where he drunkenly stumbled and hit the refrigerator door. There were angry red crescents on his neck where she had scratched him and his hair was wild.

"Clary… I don't think-" He began before she launched herself at him again, her legs locking around his waist as if they were made for his body alone. Objects in the refrigerator clattered as she circled her hips on his own. Jace's palms scrambled down to her thighs where he boosted her to a more comfortable position. Her hands winded around his neck and knotted in his hair. A gasp ruptured from her throat and across his face when his hands dipped under her shirt and clawed at her back, snagging the clasp of her bra. He grunted in her throat, testing her to see if she'd recoil. His fingers were soft on her back, rubbing it soothingly as he manipulated her tongue with his own.

" _ **Next time you want to play on that little line between life and death," he snarled. "Don't half-ass it, because you better hope you're dead when I find you."**_

The words repeated in her head as he touched the places where he'd caused bruises to form and eventually fade. When she gasped again, it was in shock at what she was doing, _what he was doing back._ She recoiled almost violently away from him, stumbling backwards and catching at the table to steady herself. He must've seen the look of horror on his face as he refrained from pursuing her.

"I…" She was at a loss for words. How did someone speak after doing such a despicable thing? She blindly grasped at his jacket, folding it in her arms and taking it with her as she made her way to the basement. The steps were cold under her feet, not that she could feel much anyway as her nerves had been burned at _his_ touch. The basement floor had never looked more inviting as she collapsed on it, using his large jacket as a blanket. Jace's scent filled her nose and made her chest buzz with energy. His kisses were perfect, his hands were perfect, _he was perfect._ Which made it all the more harder to find something wrong about what had transpired between them. Thinking back to the moments where she was in his arms, she didn't see anything wrong.

 _Other than the fact that the entire thing should have been wrong._

Clary had never understood her mother, why she never listened to her heart (even after her father.) Now she began to see _why_ her mother lead with her head instead of that large organ pumping away in her chest.

Never, _ever_ again would she do that.

* * *

 **AN: Clace! I'm sorry, but I just needed to have that happened because eight chapters without Clace is eight chapters too many! If it was too soon... well, the damage is done anyway.**

 **I hope the scene with Jocelyn wasn't too cliche but there had to be a reminder of what Jace took her from. Jonathan or not, he was the one to take her. I mean, it could have easily been someone else, but I'll save that for later chapters.**

 **Any thoughts as to why Jocelyn was intrigued by some of Clary's friends? Why Luke has suddenly left her? Leave your theory and I'll PM you! I'm sure you guys will get it anyways, though!**


	9. Forgive Me Father

"What's wrong, little brother?" Jonathan asked, propping his chin on his hand and wearing an inquisitive look. Jace frowned at the relation he claimed to him… they weren't brothers in any way. The only way they _relate_ to one another was in the sense of pain, and Jace didn't want to delve into that part of his life.

"Nothing." Jace shrugged, kicking aside some of the snow that blocked his way down the mountain. They were out walking, for some odd reason. Each few meters, he found himself wondering where Jordan and Maia had been buried. Or… had Jonathan just tossed them and figured they'd be covered soon enough. The thought made his face pallor, sickened at how cruel his figurative brother was. How little humanity he possessed, if he had any at all.

"Aww, come on! Tell me, it's not like I have someone else to entertain me. Well, there's Clarissa, but all she does is stare nowadays." Jonathan shook his head, turning it to spit unnecessarily. Jace grimaced at him, disgusted yet again by his behavior. _Did he have no shame?_ They'd been raised together, if raised was what you'd call it, but raised nonetheless. So, how did he have a different outcome than the golden-haired boy? Why did he destroy where Jace… Jace didn't really do much, but at least he kept things intact!

"And is that supposed to make me spill my heart to you, _brother_?" He scoffed and dug his hands into the pockets of his winter jacket. _It smelled just like her, with her sugary scent that stuck wherever she roamed. He could've sworn that he could recognize it seeping through the kitchen floor. She smelled of sweet apples and lemonade. Paradise through the experience of his nose._ He figured that he could always buy a new jacket so that it didn't smell so girly, but she didn't stand to be around him lately. Not that she screamed for him to leave. There was this expression, this look of turmoil when her eyes met his; which wasn't often. No, not anymore. This was perhaps the one thing he'd ruined. _So much for being different than that_ _ **thing**_.

"Do you remember when we were little, how I was your shoulder to cry on. I miss that." Jonathan admitted without any display of expression. Jace rolled his eyes at him; hating that he'd brought up their childhood again. "Michael would ask what you told me, and I'd say it was a secret between us. And, of course, he beat me senseless, yet still I never told him. In a way, you treat her like that now." He continued. This time Jace paid more attention to what the other boy was saying.

"What is the point you're trying to make, Jonathan?" Jace growled. Despite this, there was fear blossoming in his chest. If his 'brother' were to know how soft he'd become since meeting Clary, they outlook would be grimm.

"I just want to make sure you don't forget who kept you going all those years ago. Whom you confided in. You know I'll be there if you need anything, right?" He could've sworn on the sincerity in his words. Jonathan was a manipulator, a sociopath that could fool the dumbest as easy as the smartest and Jace knew well enough not to trust _anything_ he said.

"I… I know. She's new, that's it." Jace nodded, looking down at the snow that covered his boots like chilled dust. Clary wasn't really _new,_ it'd been about half a year that he'd known her. "Can I ask you something, though?" He tested.

"Shoot." Jonathan allowed.

"Why is it that you consider her valuable? And does she have to stay in the basement?" He let out in one breath, scared that Jonathan would fly into anger at how Jace had questioned his mind set. They didn't really fight, as violent of a person as Jonathan was, he never struck Jace and vice versa. Was it that Jace was submissive to his every beck and call? Probably.

"Why did he love her more than us? Why was I beaten senseless while he told her play in the basement?" His volume grew louder, clearer as he asked rhetorical questions to Jace. "Since she spent such a _wonderful_ time in _that_ basement, I figured it'd be poetic to put her back in one and have her _suffer._ This is what she deserves! This is karma, Jace. She deserves it for the good upbringing while we suffered in Hell, don't you remember?" Jonathan growled, his fists clenched at his sides. The other boy had lived with Michael longer than he had, before he had. Perhaps the extra time had an effect on him, having no one to talk to and to suffer alone.

"If we weren't in New York, would we have taken her?" He questioned his brother, nervous of the answer.

"No, I don't think we would have. Aren't we lucky? To get Michael's daughter, show her that her luck has run out!" Jonathan chuckled but the noise was nothing more than a rumbling growl. His mouth was curved down in a scowl afterwards, more weight to his step as they continued their walk. "Good thing that little bitch of hers didn't realize who you were, eh?" Jonathan nudged Jace's shoulder. Jace nodded, remembering the girl with the waterfall of dark hair.

Even though he could feel guilt where his brother couldn't, could regret taking her from that cafe, he couldn't feel the least bit remorseful for wanting to screw her on his kitchen table. The color that he'd caused to rise to her cheeks, gasps that bubbled up from her throat, each and every swivel of her hips. She'd done everything that the girls he'd been with had done, though maybe it was because it was her doing those things that had a change in his reaction. Sure, he'd gotten _painfully_ hard, but was it stupid to say she'd given his heart a boner as well? _Oh, God. Use that vocabulary of yours, Romeo!_

"Hey, blondie, you still there?" The other boy said with a snap of his fingers in Jace's face. He scowled at Jonathan, gripping hand and shoving it away.

"Yeah, I'm here." Jace growled, turning his gaze ahead of him and looking at the slope they were to walk down. _More like stuck here,_ he thought to himself.

"Are you mad because Valentine's day is coming up soon? Didn't get any paper hearts?" Jonathan teased. Jace's vision blurred as he reined in control. Or at least _tried_ to.

"Jonathan, _shut up_."

* * *

For the most part, the house was empty. Empty meaning Jonathan had ran off to 'take care of something.' Jace knew what that meant, Jonathan took 'care' of everything. Jace had a deal with him that he wouldn't ask, and Jonathan wouldn't tell. As long as the other boy was gone, Jace didn't care what he was doing. Him being gone meant that Jace could do whatever he wanted, he could go down the basement steps and watch the peaceful expression that Clary wore when she slept. He could invite her to watch TV with him, eat dinner as if they were two normal people… who wanted each other desperately. _Get a grip!_ His conscience told him.

Besides, it wasn't like she was willing to hold a conversation with him.

" _ **Clary, about last night-" He began before she interrupted him with a desperate look on her face. She sucked in a breath of air, the skin of her arms prickling from either the cold or because he was close to her. If she was untied, would she be pulling at her hair?**_

" _ **Jace… it can't happen again, ever." She said in one breath. Jace laughed, knowing that getting buzzed would've scared her. By the expression on her face, she was almost surprised by him. He knew that they couldn't drink anymore either. He'd tell her that being with each other sober was going to be so much better. Feel better for the both of them. Jace's eyes would be able to hold steady on her face, his lip action less sloppy, and maybe her body wouldn't quiver so much.**_

" _ **I know. It was wrong to let you drink so much for your first time. Next time we can just keep it sober." He agreed, confused when her eyes bugged out of her head. Was she embarrassed about the topic?**_

" _ **You**_ **have** _ **to be kidding, right? This is**_ **wrong!** _ **I can't be with you drunk or sober, tied up or freed." Clary amended. This time he was the one confused.**_

" _ **Can't happen again?**_ **Why not?"** _ **He scoffed, crossing his arms. She gestured towards her ties, giving her arms a tug to emphasize on the situation.**_

" _ **Because it isn't real!" He was sure that if she wasn't tied, she'd have thrown her hands in the air. "You saw the news, you heard what my mother said! I can never be with someone who was involved in their suffering. Who played some role in taking me away from my happy ending.**_ **That** _ **is why we can't be together." Her voice had dropped down to a whisper in the dimly lit basement.**_

" _ **But wanting you proves that you're wrong!" His throat burned him as he spoke, his eyes stinging.**_

" _ **What are you**_ **talking** _**about?!" Clary cried.**_

" _ **I… nothing." And it didn't matter what his argument was, she would never want to be with him.**_

He walked into the kitchen, sitting on the floor, then decided to lay down with his arms spread wide. If he closed his eyes, he could imagine her lying next to him, like she did when he stayed in the basement in the later weeks of her captivity. He'd pretend that he was sleeping… and she'd move in close for the warmth his body provided. She'd singlehandedly become his favorite blanket.

"I know you can hear me." Jace said with his eyes shut tight. Of course she could hear him, she was sitting directly under the kitchen with nothing but a light bulb to entertain her. "And I know that you're going to remain silent, because why would you willingly maintain a conversation with a monster like me?" He chuckled darkly, feeling the tile floor beneath his outstretched arms. Just like he said, there wasn't a reply. There was a chance that she could be sleeping, though.

"The man that raised me, he was horrible. Awful. I asked him one day, why he couldn't love me like a father should. He… he took out his wallet and showed me a picture of a little girl. A few years younger than me at the time. ' _To love is to destroy, and to be the one loved is to be the one destroyed.'_ He told me. He said that he was making me strong, so that one day I wouldn't end up like him: destroyed. I never understood - I never understood why, _how,_ being loved would destroy me. Make me as miserable as he was. Love was supposed to be light, it was supposed to be beautiful.

"But I listened to him. I listened to him because disobeying his rules meant the end for me. I prayed to a god that - I don't even know how I'd heard of him. Since _he_ wasn't helping, I realized that the man who raised me was my god. He could take away my life, put me through trials. Love was a mortal sin to him. It's been a few years since I'd talked to my god. If he saw me now, he'd cast me into the pits of Hell because…" He trailed off, opening and then closing his eyes.

"Because I have sinned."

* * *

 **AN: Angsty as always! I figured I should show what a regular conversation would go like between Jace and Jonathan since there hasn't been much of the latter.**

 **So there's been a time jump in this chapter, as Jonathan said that it was almost Valentine's day. I didn't want to make this chapter about the day after Clace's kiss, otherwise it would be _much more shorter._ And it'd take more chapters before anything lemony happened. **

**This chapter's not really long, and there might be a few more like it, just to show the time lapse. There were a few minor revealings in this chapter and you may or may not have picked up on them. But they'll have more attention in the future chapters if you didn't understand! Feel free to review with your questions and I'll PM you what I can without giving away any major spoilers**

 **Oh! And on a _totally_ random note, did anyone make any connections to the chapter titles and the chapters themselves? **


	10. The Captive

She was staring at him, her green eyes sparking with energy. It was probably fear, though. Jonathan did that to people. But the strangest thing was that her green eyes travelled from his fists to the aspects of his face. She wasn't looking at the parts of him that could hurt her physically, but emotionally. The pink of his lips, the shadows under his dark eyes, the curve of his jaw and nose. He didn't… like it. Michael had taught him to keep his face well groomed, clean. It was just as valuable as a sharpened knife or clenched fist. His face was what pulled people to him. She was gazing at his most valued weapon with interest. _Why couldn't she just be deathly afraid of him?!_

"You don't usually come down here." Clarissa whispered from her spot on the chair. He too sat in a chair, just wasn't tied down like she was. It was impossible that she could put up a fight with how weakened she was with the lack of food and muscle use. When he was younger, Michael would feed him less so that he'd bruise easily. Though he'd beat him anyway, the bruises would be much bigger, remain longer because he couldn't heal as quickly. He'd get injured from a simple fall, and then Michael would poke at them, ask him ' _if it hurt to be stupid?'_ On her arms were the places that he gripped tightly, temporarily visibly due to the violet marks. Jonathan didn't even have to be rough with her to cause harm. _It was almost too easy…_ He grinned.

"Jace is busy, and I'm bored." Jonathan shrugged, resting his chin on his chair that he sat backwards in. She winced at his voice and in doing so made him smile darkly. With her being stuck down here for long periods of time, noise and light were becoming unbearable. All he had to do was talk to get under her skin. And it wasn't only his voice that unnerved her, but her own as well. When he'd spent time in solitary confinement as a child, he'd begin to hear his thoughts at a louder volume. At first, it was just an annoyance, then it was the only thing he heard for hours on end. What was his security blanket had morphed into his own personal demon. "You're bored too. All you have is a dim bulb to keep you entertained." He added.

Her eyelids thinned through her wincing expression. "Did you just come down here to tease me, or are you actually going to hit me?" She hissed. Even if she could, Jonathan was sure she wouldn't yell at him. No punch was the same, and she feared that she would never get used to it. How did he know this? Well, he'd been through the same thing. Now she was trying to get him to hit her, get her accustomed to the pain so that she'd have nothing to hold her here - _just like he did._ _He'd even take some of Jace's punishments. If it meant the pain would no longer affect him, then so be it._ Pain was nothing now. Pain had vanished, along with his hope. _Her_ hope was wearing thin. Jace had told him about the accident involving her wrists. _She didn't have much longer._

Jonathan sat up and approached her in two long strides. Clarissa's eyes closed tightly and he could see that she was biting the inside of her cheek. His right hand held her neck, seeing the bruising he'd left before but having no plans to replicate them. Instead, he skimmed past it and down her back - to the tying of her knots. It'd been awhile since she last walked around, a few weeks maybe. As the ropes slid from her torso and legs he saw deep, deep bruising where they'd clung to her. The marks were almost obsidian on her ivory skin. Attached to them were the burns and scars she got when she moved around. Rope burns of course, but the scars were partly his doing.

"What are you doing?" She whispered with her eyes still shut.

"Let's take a walk." Jonathan responded. He waited for her to stand, only to see her pained face as she leaned forward.

"I… _can't stand_." Clary muttered as her head hung low in shame and embarrassment.

"Of course you can't stand." He sighed, scooping his hands under her thighs. His fists heated with annoyance as he picked her up and threw her over his shoulder. She was lighter than a few weeks ago. Probably with the less and less amount of food he was feeding her. Her skin was… surprisingly warm. As cold as the basement was and her only wearing shorts and a loose shirt made it impossible for such a thing. Maybe she was running a fever?

He trudged up another set of stairs to the second story bathroom, having to enter his room first to get there. "I took a shower yesterday!" She reminded him, her palms flattening against his back to steady herself.

"Today's a new day." He muttered. Jonathan frowned even if she couldn't see it. There was something about her that made his mind tick like a clock. _Jace had asked for a clock for her. He's getting soft for her, and he had to know why. Why this frail and malnourished girl earned his interest when she had done nothing but demand from him._ Jonathan was starting to see the similarities between her and her father. Her father was manipulative and so was Clarissa. "You're just like your father."

"What? How do you know my father?" She questioned.

"Come on, Michael should have taught you refrain from asking questions."

"Michael?" Clarissa whispered to herself. Once he kicked open the bathroom door, Jonathan sat her down on the marble sink, steading her so that she didn't fall into the mirror. Clarissa's eyes were lidded as she adjusted to the lighting, even swollen. With the violet shadows under them, she could have said that she was beaten… _again._ The coils of bruises on her limbs reminded him of a snake, and her pale lips practically blended with her ivory skin had it not been for her biting them raw.

"Why do I have to take another- _what are you doing?!"_ She cried out when his hands found the hem of her cotton shirt. Jonathan paid no attention to what she was asking, just pulled the fabric up and over her head while her weak arms protested. Jonathan was able to count each and every one of her ribs, while in the mirror behind her did he see the bumps of her spin. The bruises splotched her skin while the cuts made it swell just as much. Had she been eating properly would half of these be gone, but he didn't really care for her nutritional intake. _A land must be bare before you begin construction._ "Please, don't do this." She whispered out he slid his fingers under the elastic band of her shorts and began to pull. All that was left was her bra and panties which had become loose when they should have clung to her skin. Clarissa tried to cover herself but her arms were so thin that she might as have used thread. "Is this your new way of punishment?" She asked him with fear evident in her voice. He laughed, reaching behind her to open the mirror that was also a cabinet. Moving her head a little forward and Jonathan was able to grab what he wanted.

"Actually, I'm here to help you." He corrected. When he turned his back to her, Jonathan started the shower. After the water was a considerably warm temperature, he began to strip off his clothing until he was in nothing but his boxers. Clarissa's eyes bugged out of her head, gawking at him as he moved in close and picked her up. They stood under the pouring whatever, more him than her as he pushed her to the wall to keep her from falling. The object was still in his hand, ready whenever he was.

"Help me? How, is there some sort of portal in here?" Clarissa asked him, her swollen eyes becoming thinner with suspicion. Jonathan pressed his thumb to the object in his hand, feeling blood pour out. _Now he just had to continue onto the next and hopefully last step in his plan._

"You want to leave here." It wasn't even a question, he already knew the answer. "I can help you with that." He continued.

"Are you going to let me go?" She prodded.

"Sort of," Jonathan answered vaguely. He pulled the object to face her, watching her eyes grow wide with fear and her head shake timidly. "Jace told me once that you had tried to kill yourself." He began, watching her mouth open to protest before he cut her off. "I'm going to give you this _one_ chance to finish what you started. To end your suffering. To never see either of us again and join those in the afterlife." Jonathan gingerly picked up on of her limp arms, bringing her wrists to his mouth so that he could kiss at her silver scars, hoping that they would soon unravel.

* * *

"Why are you wet?" Jace asked warily as he walked down the basement stairs. He had a plate of food in his hand, the smell of salty meat leaking into her nose. Jace had visited her earlier today, before Jonathan came downstairs. She was so scared that Jonathan would know why she was warm. Now, she was scared of what situation she had condemned herself to. There was no turning back.

"I took a shower." She answered vaguely. _Of course she'd taken a shower! Why the hell else would her hair be wet?!_

"I could assume that. But I wasn't here. And you took one yesterday…" He led off, waiting for her to say that Jonathan had been that close to her. She didn't want to say it, though. She'd seen his hurt face each time he'd come down to the basement and see her bruised and battered body. Telling him of what Jonathan did wouldn't sooth his conscious at all. He'd fly into that self loathing that she hated to see him in. Once Jace got close enough, he set down the tray and began to loosen her ties. This was odd, because he'd worry about Jonathan going into the basement and seeing how soft he'd become with her. And, that they hadn't been this close in many, many… _days?_ Ever since he confronted her about their kiss, things had been weird between them.

And since he vaguely professed his love to her.

"Jonathan left. He looked a little pissed. Did you have something to do with that?" Jace asked with a raised eyebrow. The ropes that clung to her slipped off for what had to be the third time today. Her eyes began to water despite her silent protest. "Clary, did he…?" His eyes left her face and stared down at his feet. To his sides were fists clenched tightly, but what right did he have to be _angry?_

"And, suppose, what would you do if he did?" Clary snapped, looking up at him with a boiling rage that hadn't possessed her since her first weeks here. Jace didn't have an answer. All he responded with was kneeling in front of her, his hand cupping her knee as he pressed his nose to it. _So different from the man that had done nothing but argue with her. But that was so long ago, a different world where they could deny each other. Now, he loved her. Now, she thought she was going insane with stockholm syndrome._ "He offered to let me leave." She spat at him. His thumb stopped brushing against her knee while his golden eyes burned with fear and confusion. "I would never have to see either of you again." _And the tears came back._

"Good. You don't want to see either of us anyway." There was hurt evident in his sentence. Suppose he'd be mopey about her rejecting him. _Didn't he realize how wrong it was? How unfathomable to create a relationship out of their twisted situation?_

"I could have _left_. All this suffering would end and the world would be at peace knowing Clarissa Adele Fairchild was smiling in the afterlife." Jace cupped her chin the instant the words left her mouth, making her green eyes meet his. He was panicking. He was scared of what she was saying.

" _ **Next time you want to play on that little line between life and death," he snarled. "Don't half-ass it, because you better hope you're dead when I find you."**_ And she would've been gone. There would've been nothing left of the miserable girl when he returned from wherever he'd been. _She would've done as he commanded._

"Please, tell me this isn't some sick joke? Tell me you weren't actually thinking about suicide?" He pleaded with her.

"Oh but I did. I wanted to _leave this damned placed._ Sure, my family would be saddened by my death, but they would get over it. Everyone would understand my decision. I'd be that girl remembered for her bravery. That she didn't wait for her captors to take her life, so she took it herself!" She was shouting at him, angry that her anchor to life was also keeping her from living it.

"If you were so content with killing yourself, why didn't you do it?" He asked with sharp breaths leaving between his clenched teeth.

"Why?"

"Yeah, why?" Jace repeated with more aggravation. Though his eyes couldn't hide how inside he was pleading with her to make sense of her decision. To say the words he feared to say for her. To assume what she felt.

"I'm sick! That's why! There's something _horribly_ wrong with me, because in what world is it to fall for the man that keeps you tied in his basement?! No, I don't just want you. I fucking _need_ you. And that… that's the sickest thing about it. You - you beautiful monster! You have me in your grasp and I can't escape! Just let me go!" She was sobbing, head in her hands and the rope at her feet. Jace didn't say anything in response. He was silent, which allowed her conscious to begin speaking. _You're just sick. That's it, once you get home, it'll all disappear. You won't need him when you have your family back. When they have you back._

"You can go-" His mouth crashed into her dry lips, silencing her for good. She tasted her salty tears on his tongue as he massaged hers. Their teeth clicked together with a force that made her head ring, _but she didn't care._ There tongues played with one another, and she was shocked when his teeth nipped at hers. Kissing him was like the world hadn't ended for her. That she could imagine that the cold chill that held her body was the New York air swirling around them. That they were somewhere public, displaying their affection for one another.

"I can't… don't leave." She breathed into his mouth, gripping the back of his neck roughly and feeling his golden waves snake under her fingers. He was holding her thighs as if she were still sitting back in that chair. _Damn that chair to the deepest pits of hell!_ She thought, knowing that the other reason he was holding her up was because the ropes were so tight they cut off her circulation. But now wasn't the time to feel pitied, now was the time to feel wanted. _Needed,_ by God did she need him.

"I won't. I won't leave," He gasped onto her lips before sliding them back together. Jace used one hand to cup her neck and push it into his shoulder. She got the hint and wrapped her arms tightly around him as if she were to replace his shirt. He held her thighs in place and began to make his way towards the stairs, both trying to be careful and yet wanting to get to the first floor in record timing. She buried her nose into the crook of his neck, reacquainting herself with his intoxicating scent that brought forth protection. His fingers tapped on her thighs, as if she were the piano he longed to play.

After a few long strides, they were going up another set of stairs. _You know what you're doing, right?_ Her conscious spoke. Clary shook her head, using Jace's scent to cast away the negativity. From her until she was back in that basement, she wouldn't think about anything but him. Only hime. And she prayed that he'd do the same.

He clumsily opened his door, showing her a room with white walls and void of any decor. It was more of a place up for rent than an actual _bedroom._ The sheets on his bed were multiple shades of gray, while the pillow sheets were plain black. While carrying her, he stumbled on something that she realized was… _sheet music? Why did he have sheet music in his room._ The piano that resed a few meters away from his bed answered her question. _How had she never heard him play?_

Clary's back found comfort on his bed, and she swore in that moment that she struggled to remain awake. It had been _so long_ since she slept on a mattress, and even longer since an actual bed! The way his pillows supported the back of her neck, the way his sheets warmed her achingly cold legs - _Life couldn't get better._ A soreness that she hadn't realized was there made its presence known and she moaned into Jace's chest as he carefully laid over her, his shirt being tossed somewhere.

"Tell me what you're thinking." Jace asked, his breath warming her neck as he began to kiss it. She couldn't ignore his muscles so sturdy against the fabric of her shirt. _Perfect._

"I think - I think I'm about to fall asleep." She sighed and felt him still, his tongue pausing on her pulse point. He lifted his head, one brow raised while the curves of his mouth fell flat and then down. Then, as if he figured out whatever he was thinking, he flashed her a crooked grin.

"I didn't realize I was so boring in bed." He chuckled. Clary shook her head and lifted her hand to brush one of his cheekbones. _He felt great, amazing. His skin was like warm glass, so smooth and perfect that she worried she'd dirty him with her fingertips._ Jace's eyes fluttered shut as she roamed his face with her fingers, feeling the points of his eyelashes and the swollen shadows beneath those mesmerizing golden pools. Then, finally, his lips. His lips were like pink silk, parting for her and waiting for when she'd greet them with her own. And she did, gently. Wanting to remember every second for when she'd have to leave this paradise. _This_ would keep her going.

He began to kiss in a downward direction. Her chin, pulse, collarbones, the space between her breasts, flat stomach. With care, Jace used his teeth to grab the waistline of her shorts. When he pulled them down, she heard him gasp.

" _Why are you so wet?"_ Jace croaked, his voice reaching a high pitch that made her giggle. Clary remembered that Jonathan hadn't allowed her to change out of her wet underwear, despite her room being fifty degrees. Yet another form of punishment.

"I took a shower in them." She answered, and then he was back to kissing her. Kissing her thighs, the bruises that crossed them in coils, her knees and the back of them that ached from the chair, and her ankles that had become enlarged due to her weight loss. She felt hideous, as if she were mere skeleton. When he began to make his way upward, his hands snagged her panties, slowly pulling them down.

"It was either them or granny panties!" Clary blurted, feeling his grin on her inner thigh. He didn't reply. Only kissing her thighs and licking at where the ropes had gripped too tightly. Where Jonathan had held her with unnecessary pressure. Her back arched a good six inches from the mattress of the bed. It had been so, so long since someone had touched her like that. It wasn't as though she were a nymphomaniac, but it was like she was a hungry virgin all over again. Pure and up for the taking. Though she swore they were sharing the moment together. The entire time she'd been in the basement, she never heard another woman. _Had he been celibate as long as she?_

"Jace…" She breathed out as he came to straddle her. Her hands rested above her head, relaxed and waiting for him to make something of their limited time together. First, his hand rubbed her abdomen soothingly, calming her. Then his hands skimmed up to her bra with its clasp in the front. Clary wasn't even nervous because she _absolutely needed him._ And by the fire in his eyes, he needed her just as much. Just the same.

As the fabric left her chest, his hands massaged her tender breasts, looking at her as if to ask _is this okay?_ She nodded, wrapping her ankle around his back and pushing him to her. She was drunk off of his intoxicating presence. The room was a haze to her, a blurry aspect that she couldn't care less about. It could have morphed into the Sahara desert and she wouldn't have noticed. Or cared.

Jace's hands moved to his waist where he undid his belt, shoving his pants and boxers down in one push. She shivered with anticipation as he prodded at her thigh with his stiffness. Her hands scraped along his chest and behind him, resting on his back and bracing herself. He grunted in her ear, ghosting his mouth around the lobe as he found his way to her entrance. In one firm thrust, he sunk into her and she stuttered out his name with need.

When she had been with Sebastian, there was always this waiting period; where they had to adjust. Not with Jace. With Jace, it was as if they were made for each other. That she had been crafted to his shape and vice versa. But, he waited for the go, resting his forehead against hers and brushing their lips against one another.

"Jace, if you don't start moving… I'm going to have to get on top." She chuckled, gasping in the middle of her entertainment when he began a slow rhythm. _Perfect, Oh was he perfect._ With her leg hooked around his waist, it made him add pressure to each thrust and buck of his hips. His lips went from hers, to her pulse point, sucking gently as he pistoned into her over and _over_. Still, he was going too slow for her liking. Torturing her in the best way possible. Her hands scraped down between his shoulder blades, his body shivering in response.

" _Harder,_ " She panted. Clary clawed at his back again, laughing when he gripped her wrists and placed them above her head. Again, they began to kiss reverently, their tongues beginning to recognize the shape of the others mouth. His hips were pounding into hers, the room being filled with the sound of a mattress creaking and skin slapping feverently together.

"God, Clary," Jace panted into her neck. Kissing it soon afterwards. She bit back a moan, not wanting to embarrass herself. He let go of her hands, completely lost in his pleasure. She dug them into his shoulder, crying out at the amazing feel of him. _If this was insanity, she never wanted to have a clear thought again._ Her thigh muscles burned as they remained wrapped around his waist, not wanting a single part of them to be separated. When Jace's head moved, she glimpsed him sinking into her at a rapid pace that was losing rhythm.

"Fuck, you feel so good," He grunted and she muttered out a _dito._ "Better than what I imaged." And she tried keep a blush from rising to her face. It was so obvious with her being so pale that she stuck out on his dark sheets.

"I… I love you."

And with those three words, he successfully brought to her a gasping hault.

Fire swirled in her stomach. It burned its path to her heart where the beat sputtered, stopping completely. The world no longer spun, oxygen could not flow freely, everything just… _stopped._ The only thing that continued was the burning in his eyes as he moved to gaze at her, lips parted as he panted silently. And that last - _final_ piece of the girl who'd been dragged into a basement disappeared forever with a crash of bliss and turmoil. Her nails dug into his skin as she pleaded for him to take her harder, faster, deeper. Though she was already in his arms, she felt as if she'd just been caught by him. Falling until this very moment when all there was were the two of them and their absolute need for one another. She didn't know what was higher pitched; the mattress squeaking or her scream as the splinters of her mind sunk into her heart.

"Oh, oh! Jace!" Clary panted, holding onto him for the fear that she'd be so lost in the moment that she'd never find her way back. She clenched so tightly around him that it made him slow down. A few strangled grunts left his throat as he held onto her torso and plunged deeper, deeper, and then left her completely. His body was scorching against hers that she almost miss him leave her and empty out onto her stomach.

"Fuck!" He roared, gripping himself and shutting his eyes so tightly that they could've bruised. A thick sheen of sweat was covering both of them, making their bodies glisten in afterglow. Jace sighed deeply, rolling off to the side. Just when she thought that the moment was over, he pulled her too him, against him. Her mind blanked for a moment, forgetting that she was supposed to be tied to a chair and he was the one doing the tying. She was the prisoner and him the guard. Victim and perpetrator. Captive and captor. That wasn't how they were interacting. That wasn't how he gripped her tightly and declared his love for her.

Right now, it was Jace and Clary.

* * *

 **AN: Finally, oh _finally_ have we gotten to this point in the story! Any thoughts on what might happen in the next chapter? Will Clary and Jace feel the same for each other? Or will they become insatiable? **

**But besides the Clace, what did you guys think of Jonathan's POV? There's probably going to be a lot more of him in the future chapters.**


	11. Bearded Barley

They were laying on a plot of land, wild flowers growing around them. It was the same place where she had sat down with her mother, talked about just who would miss her if she let go. And now she was facing him, lying next to him with their fingers intertwined.

"I miss you," Sebastian said as he tucked a fiery curl behind her ear by pushing himself up on one elbow. Clary nodded, feeling her throat tighten in longing. Her heart pounded for him. With him; there was no questioning if their love was forbidden. Frowned upon. It was right. Perfect in every sense of the way. Now, it was like her heart and mind were split in two. Her heart told her to go after the golden boy, while her mind told her she was losing her mind. Giving in to her survival instincts. But how could she say that to the boy she'd known and loved most of her juvenile life?

"I miss you too." She responded honestly. In all her days in captivity had she never dreamed of him. As if her mind would crack under his appearance. She felt incredibly guilty. Troubled over the fact that she should be in his arms but had no hope to ever have the chance to do it again. He was a ghost in her past, come to haunt her for the remainder of her captivity and probably life.

"You never think about me. Why?" Sebastian asked her with a troubled frown. What he was saying was true. Clary had even dreamt of greeting his cousin, just never the _other_ Verlac. Was he okay?

"I can't - I can't _afford_ to think about you. It would destroy me." She croaked, rolling to lie on top of him and bury her nose in his chest that should have been warm, when in fact she could feel nothing. Not even the wildflowers poking under her thighs. Sebastian rubbed her back, humming a familiar tune that he shouldn't have known.

"Don't feel guilty. Don't give up on us." Sebastian whispered into her red hair. He planted a soft kiss upon her head.

"You deserve better. I've forgotten about you. What it was like to love you." She whimpered into his chest as he hummed to her.

"How can you forget when you're lying with me?" He asked her. This confused her. Clary lifted her head to look at him, peering into golden eyes that had no business being on the familiar face.

* * *

Someone was rubbing something across the skin of her thighs, the curve of her knees before stopping at his shirt she was wearing. It felt amazing, but the smell was another story. Like someone had set fire to mint. Before applying another inch of it to her skin, they would kiss it. Kiss it like it were her dry and crusted lips. When they did, it was like the pain resurfaced and calmed in a matter of seconds. Like only when they brought attention to it was she hurting. Her skin cried out in pain where she guessed some cuts may have been. Clary's eyes were closed as she listened to the song they were humming to either her or themselves. Maybe the person didn't even realize they were humming the beautiful tune. She'd heard it in the dream of her captor (one of them, at least) in her memories with Simon when he tried to play the piano. _What was the name of that song?_

"Why are you frowning?" _He_ whispered. She hadn't realized she was making a face until he'd pointed it out. He was probably thinking that the salve he was rubbing had caused her some form of pain. It was a beautiful pain though, one that meant she'd be healing quicker than what her ailed body permitted.

"No, I'm trying to figure something out. Keep rubbing that stuff on me." She sighed with a peaceful smile that assured him to continue. When his hands resumed their calming motions on the skin of her leg, she delved back into her thoughts.

 **" _I can't pronounce that name," Simon groaned as he began to play on his piano._**

 **" _Well, don't look at me. My father-" She'd almost slipped up and talked about the man in London. The man that wasn't supposed to exist. Her mother had burned the thought that her father had died before she was born. In a way, he did, considering what he did. "Just because he might have had some out-of-the-country blood in him doesn't mean I know the pronunciation of foreign words." Clary continued as if she'd never paused in the first place. Simon gave her a weird glance before placing his hands back on the piano keys. While his mistakes were impairing the original composition of the song, all together it was a pretty tune._**

She noticed Jace had stopped humming to himself, which made her frown, again. "Why'd you stop?" Clary asked him. Her emerald pools took in the ceiling of his bland room. When his head came into view, he leaned down to kiss her, the smell of the ointment too close for her to admire.

"Unless you want to submerge yourself in Neosporin, I think that's enough for today." Clary was about to say that he'd only lathered it on her legs when she felt a cool sting to her arms. Looking at them, the cuts were smeared with a white substance, along with the violet and amber colors that were in various stages of bruising. _How long had he been up?_ She thought to herself. Even the skin of her neck that Jonathan had gripped was damp and sticky. _His bed was going to look like amature porn was shot there._

"No, you stopped _humming_." She amended, touching his cheekbone with the slipper pad of her index finger. His eyes fluttered clothes and he almost allowed himself to lie down with her before they snapped open. Jace's hands found their way easily under her thin and sticky thighs, lifting her into his arms without a thought that her slick skin would touch his - _where the hell was his shirt? Oh, wait..._ The fabric that had once clung onto his chest was now hovering loosely over her torso and upper thighs. She gazed unabashedly at his pectorals, seeing white marks scratching across the toned skin. There were all in strange shapes, as if no two were alike. Snowflakes in some way. Clary pressed her finger to one and saw the reaction when his skin prickled. _Note to self, don't question the mysterious man about his scars._

"What song were you singing?" Clary asked Jace. He was in the process of carrying her down the stairs, almost do the bottom when he looked down at her with crooked grin. _What did she say? Why was he always smiling?_

"I didn't realize you were awake at the time." Jace explained as he walked her into the kitchen. She nodded in admission. He sat her down softly on one of the kitchen chairs before delving into one of the cabinets. There was the sound of cardboard moving, cans toppling, before he pulled out with a box of pancake batter and large plastic cup. Her stomach rumbled in her stomach. The last time she'd eaten was when he'd seen her earlier, before Jonathan had offered her suicide as a method to escape them both. Jace was about to feed her _again,_ but the plate was long forgotten in the basement when they had busied themselves with… _other activities._

"Why is the house much warmer than last night? I'm not running a fever, am I?" Clary asked him when she noticed she no longer felt the urge to cover up. In fact, even when the ointment fully absorbed into her skin did she still feel like her thighs were sticking to the chair. It wasn't that it had frozen to the stiff wood, but that she was actually working up a sweat.

"When Jonathan _takes care of things,_ he usually is gone for a while. Figured he wouldn't know that I messed with the heater." Jace shrugged with the muscles of his back submitting to the action. "Plus, I can't see you under my jacket." He added and she knew he was grinning as he mixed the pancake batter with water. Their interactions were so _normal._ Clary was surprised that she wasn't screaming at the fact that she had _made love_ with her captor. Partly because of the latter, and then because she'd never _made love_ to anyone. It seemed like a funny term people used when they were-

"In love." She whispered to herself low enough that Jace couldn't hear her. _Were they?_ It didn't matter. It didn't matter if she hated him with every fibre of her being, or if she would give her soul to save his own. None of it changed the situation they were in. That she was forced into. They still captive and captor. He was still going to be the reason she couldn't see those she loved whenever she wished.

And she'd never forget that.

"Gymnopedie number one." Jace said over the sizzling of pancakes in the process. Over her stomach growling loudly when the sugary smell reached her nose.

"What?"

"The song I was humming. It was Gymnopedie number on." He furthered, not turning to face her as he continued on with his cooking of breakfast. At her silence, he began again. "What? Aren't you glad I'm not singing some song… Oh, I forget what it's called" Jace frowned.

"How does it go?" Clary asked him. Something like the look of pride left his eyes before he cleared his throat and began singing. Not without warning her that she should avoid laughing at her or else he'd throw raisins in her pancakes.

" _Kiss me, out hmmhmm…_ bearded something, I think." Jace thought, his face clearing and being filled by annoyance. The lyrics sounded familiar to her, but she didn't have a name to place them.

"Don't you know something from _this_ century?" She groaned at him, sticking her tongue out when he laughed. "I'm serious, your lack of knowledge concerns me." Clary said with wide eyes and clutched at her chest. Jace laughed at her again before concentration folded his features tightly together. She waited patiently for him to gather his thoughts, a smile playing on her chapped lips while finishing pancakes crackled in the heated pan.

"I guess I could buy a few tapes-"

Clary choked.

"Oh… Oh my God! Did you seriously just _say that?!"_ She cried out in a shrill whisper. Where she had previously been joking with him, she now was _seriously concerned._ Sure, there was such a thing as being retro, even being admired for it by some hipsters. But Jace wasn't _trying_ to be retro _._ He was someone that had no use for today's technology. The fact that he wasn't saying nineties slang was a godsend.

"Okay, I know I may not be reading into _Twilight_ or any of that stuff-" He began with his hands raised in defense. Everything that came out of his mouth was like a recap of her adolescence.

" _Twilight?"_ Clary gasped. "You think _Twilight_ is your way of staying in with today's media?" She ranted, throwing her hands in the air while Jace took out a finished pancake and began stacking them.

"Well, yeah. Girls like… _Vapers?_ Right? That's what the book is about?" He questioned with despair in his voice. Clary just shook her head in shock. Up until now, had _he_ been the one trapped in that basement for the past decade? Was this going to be what she was like when she returned home? Was everyone going to be obsessed with something she knew nothing about?

She began to hyperventilate.

"Anyways, I saw on one of the covers that it was going to a major motion picture. That's cool, right? Books being turned into movies?" What was he even _saying?_ The conversation she was having with him was like the ones she'd have with her mother.

"Jace-"

"I'm just not that into mainstream media, okay?" He sounded irritated, his fists holding on to the spatula that he was using to flip pancakes. "There may have been a time - that I can't remember - when I watched TV and had the newest toys, but I'm sorry if I can't tell you what Nirvana's latest hit is." She winced, _should she tell him? Maybe he needed a clock more than she did..._

"I think there are a few things I should tell you about the past few decades."

* * *

Aline was flitting about the room, picking up the various pieces of trash that were cast aside. Her relative was sitting in a chair, his knees pulled to himself as he waited by the house phone. He was an empty shell without _her._ No one was allowed to say her name, for fear that he'd lash out at them. Today was a _very_ hard day for him. Jocelyn and her family were grieving heavily, while the rest of Clary's friends were holding hope close. But Sebastian… God knows what was going on in his head. She was with him when they broke the information to him.

 **" _Luke, you're back?" Aline squeaked. The older man had been in London for quite some time, doing whatever it was that kept him occupied for the months that passed without Clary. Her cousin was skipping through the many news stations on both a TV and radio, simultaneously playing them at the same time. She had the means to ask him when he slept,_ how _he slept when he was listening to them at such a high volume. Even she was sporting a rather large shadow under each of her dark eyes._**

 **" _I'd hoped you were here, because I don't think he can take what I'm about to say." Luke whispered to her. Aline braced herself, knowing for sure that she was going to be sobbing at the end of his next words. "The search - they've stopped it. There wasn't enough evidence to show that she was alive." The man sighed with glossy eyes. Aline could feel her own eyes sting with disbelief._ Canceling the search? _So there was a chance that Clary was alive… but that they wouldn't try to find her. Luke turned around and began to walk to his parked car. Aline had no words to say to him, what response would fit his statement? She pivoted to face the other Verlac._**

 **" _Sebastian-"_**

And he'd been like that ever since. ' _She's still out there, we can't just give up!'_ He'd yelled at her as if it were her decision. If he wasn't miserable enough, knowing that the rest of the nation had stopped looking for his love had _devastated_ him. Along with the Graymark's. She thought that the loss parents feel when they lose a child was bad enough, but losing your _one true love?_ Aline didn't have words for that kind of pain.

* * *

 **AN: As usual, there are a few hints in my chapters, but it's up to you guys to find out what they are and what they mean.**

 **Anyone know what song Jace was trying to sing? It's a clue to when he 'met' Michael. The fact that he thinks there haven't been any Twilight movies or thinks tapes are still in is a hint at something as well. Maybe Clary's not entirely alone in that basement after all.**

 **Sebastian is a total wreck, as of now. The search for Clary has been called off and her family is now in the process of grieving.**

 **I know some of you were worrying over Jonathan flipping out over the Clace, so I had Jace mention that he'd be gone for a bit so it didn't ruin the chapter. The chapters will be shorter (sorry!) but still have as much hints and plot in them! Only for a few days though.**

 **And some have asked if Clary and Jonathan are related. They aren't in this story. Maybe in some way could he be her 'adoptive brother,' but that would include Jace as well. I know that he still carries that same infatuation that he did in the books, but in _no way_ is there incest in this story. **


	12. Past Mistakes

" _Take my food." Jonathan groaned. They were laying on the wooden floor of their room. It wasn't much of a room, more of a place that Michael would locate them in for beatings. Today he'd been lenient on the two and brought them what resembled soup. There were chunks of meat in it, while some vegetables floated around - almost swimming. Neither of them had touched it in fear that Michael would take it away or had poisoned it in order to kill them._

" _But aren't you hungry too?" Jace whispered through his dry throat. Jonathan was a few years older than him but probably weighed just the same. What Jace guessed was that he'd already spent many, many days in this horrible house. He missed the familiar faces of his family, of the woman and man that tucked him into bed at night._

" _You can't be much older than what? Six, seven?" Jonathan asked him. There was a silence when Jace realized the older boy wanted him to answer._

" _Five." Jace croaked, staring up at the ceiling and thinking that if he got any skinnier that he'd fly away. His mother had told him that he was a tall boy, but Jace didn't believe her._

" _Five." Jonathan groaned back. "Just take my food. I've been through this longer than you have. The closer I get to becoming familiar with this, I think living here will become bearable." There were some words in his sentence that Jace had trouble understanding, though its meaning was clear to him._ _ **Eat his food. Eat**_ **more** _ **food.**_

 _ **Eat.**_

" _Thank you," The younger boy whispered in that high pitched voice of his. He sat up on the wooden floor, remembering what Jonathan said about how easy it was too… pinch a nerve (?) now that he was underweight. Jace thought his mother had said the term when she was angry, but it didn't have the same meaning when Jace was whimpering in pain because he had crossed his legs too tightly together._

" _Don't mention it. Really, because if Michael finds out I gave you extra, he's going to make you throw it up. All of it."_

"Jace?" The girl giggled, brushing back a lock of gold that had curled on his forehead. He smiled up at her, at her fuller cheeks and brighter eyes. At the ribs that no longer protruded. At the pink that had returned to her pouting lips. "Did you hear what I said?" Clary laughed. Jace craned his neck and planted a kiss on her lips, emitting a laugh of his own when her nose scrunched up. "So was that a _no_?"

"Unless you were talking about my godly looks, then sorry. I wasn't paying attention." He grinned. _Could she tell what he was thinking? Surely she couldn't have been able to see his memories._

"I was just -" A thought crossed Jace as he couldn't see her bones poking through her shirt. He let his hands skim up her body, feeling nothing but smoothness.

"Nice to see you putting on weight-"

 **"** _ **Excuse me?"** _ Clary snapped at the blond, her green eyes blazing. Jace looked torn as he held her close to him in bed. His hands were on her sides, feeling where a time lapse ago had been pronounced ribs.

"I - I just meant that your bones don't stick out anymore." He _was_ right, no matter how bad the truth came out. She nodded, her face turned away and his hands continuing their roaming on her body. Seeing her gain her weight back brought relief to his chest. Whenever he'd bring her food in the basement, the stress of Jonathan would make her so panicked the result would be her vomiting on the concrete floor, her thighs and feet. It wasn't a pleasant memory but it was far better than what Jonathan and him had to suffer through. "Did you take your vitamins? They're by the bedside-"

"Yes, the nightstand. It's not like I haven't been taking them for a while now." Her eyes rolled slowly before she leaned down a planted a kiss on his lips. When she pulled back, his hands travelled north, stopping at his favorite spot. "Nuh uh." Clary chided, taking his hands and placing them over his head.

"Why _not_?" Jace pouted. He'd noticed that they'd grown slightly, due to her weight gain. "You like it when I touch you here." Clary laughed at him, her breasts bouncing slightly in front of his attentive eyes.

And he wasn't complaining.

"You can't just use them whenever you don't want to talk to me." She scolded softly. Jace nodded, tearing his eyes away from the front of her shirt and seeing… _concern?_ It was bright in her grassy orbs. "Tell me what you were thinking about. One second we were chatting over dinner options, I said we could have soup because it was getting chilly, and next you just - spaced out on me." So _that's_ what brought back the memory!

"Just some _childhood reminiscing_." He shrugged with a cold stare up at the ceiling. Clary moved her head to where he was staring up at her again, except instead of concern she was now obviously annoyed with his vague response. "Look, I don't want to bore you with my sob story." Jace groaned.

"Please tell me?" She whispered, her hands cupping his face and cooling the heat that spread across his skin. He never saw what he and Jonathan went through as an ordeal - it just _happened_ to him. But whenever he would joke about an experience of his, Clary would look appalled that he'd even mention such a tragedy such as starvation or lashings. It was making him realize that there might be a cause to Jonathan's sociopathy and his lack of knowledge on the subject of love. There was a time in his life where he'd suspected someone had loved him, cared for him at least. He got that same feeling when she held his hand, brushed back his waves and kissed his cheek. Though, there was that overwhelming need to take her every second of the day.

" _Why?_ It's not like I want your pity." He snapped, immediately regretting it when her eyes glimmered down at him. Clary nodded, moving her straddling legs to scramble across the bed and stand. From this angle Jace could see that even her rear was filling back to its default shape - which was amazing. _Don't think about that_ now _you idiot!_ He scolded himself."Where are you going?" Jace blurted.

"To the bathroom." She muttered, wiping her face clean of what he suspected were unseen tears.

* * *

"Oh you've _got to be kidding me!"_ Clary yelled as she sat on the toilet. It'd been _months_ since she faced this problem. Thought about the day she'd wake up in the basement, her lower half dripping with blood. Of course, she was gaining her weight back. When she'd been in high school, there were a few girls who'd been deathly thin. _Just eat,_ she would think at them. Now she understood part of the reason they didn't. Eating when she'd been on week-long fasts was _horrible_. Her stomach had to adjust, and often that meant she'd be vomiting out a sour liquid into the toilet. Also, it was like she didn't _know_ how to eat properly. One moment she was walking into the kitchen - saying she'd just grab a fruit - and the next she'd be on her knees in front of the fridge while stuffing her mouth full of various items.

 _Binging,_ Jace had called it. But binging resulted in her body throwing up the entire meal while her stomach coiled tightly in pain.

 _"_ _ **Clary, are you okay?" She heard from the other side of the bathroom door. Her hands were gripping the toilet, her knuckles turning white from pressure. And God, her stomach felt like it was on fire from being stuffed so fully. Just when she was about to open it, another fiery wave of nausea hit her and she was emptying her stomach yet again.**_

 _"_ _ **You can come in now," Clary whispered, barely audible over the sound of the toilet flushing. Whether he'd heard her or not, he came in and knelt beside her, rubbing her back in a comforting matter. "I think eating all that food at once was a bad idea." She admitted. Yes, it was a bad idea to eat five pancakes and the various amounts of canned fruit he'd purchased.**_

 _"_ _ **You think**_ _ **?" Jace chuckled. He pulled her in close, kissing the top of her head as if they were any regular couple trying to help one another. For a while, they'd been pretending as if they were such a thing. Sometimes while he was cooking, Clary would slip up on his name and call him Sebastian. Things were that perfect between the two of them. She knew that when Jonathan came back, that her Hell would begin to heat again. "Just pace yourself, okay? You haven't even had a proper meal today and you're throwing up." He worried. Clary nodded, her face contorted in fear as she thought about Jonathan.**_

Jace, having heard her strangled groan, knocked his fist against the bathroom door. "Are you throwing up again?" He'd asked through the door. She had a deep frown set on her face as she stared at the spotting in her underwear. It reminded her of when she was in seventh grade, having started later than most her friends, and complete panicking _Cary Style._ But how upset could she be when her body was telling her that she was healthy. Or, close to it.

"I'm _bleeding."_ She guffawed a little _too_ loudly. And the pounding on the door became harder, feverent. _Of course,_ she thought to herself. " _ **Uh, don't you need something for that? A pad or whatever it's called-"**_ She remembered the embarrassment on his face when he saw the blood pooling around her legs. He was likely outside the bathroom door, panicking and thinking that she'd finally owned up to his demand and slit her wrists after their small disagreement. "... _open the door!"_ Clary snapped back to the situation, realizing the supplies she needed. The flow wasn't _too_ heavy, so she could suffice with tissue paper for now. But what about when she slept? Surely she'd need something then.

"Do you by chance have pads lying around when Maia was here?" Clary shouted at the bathroom door. Her voice trembled on the dead girl's name, just barely, but it was the least she could do to acknowledge her existence. _Christ, that was probably the worst day of her life… besides being kidnapped. She had never seen someone die, and watching two people she knew bleed out on a kitchen floor was traumatizing. What about the baby?_ There was a moment of silence, then throat clearing while she imagined Jace's face burning red with that same mortification that should have and was on her previously-ivory face.

"Under the sink." Jace responded. Clary quickly sat up from the toilet and threw open the small door under the bathroom sink, smiling to herself when she saw a nearly fresh supply of pads.

Then groaned.

"What the hell? Did she have the lightest period ever, or what? There's _no way_ this thing can absorb blood, let alone a continuous supply of it!" She huffed as she held the 'ultra thin' padding in her hands.

"There's different amounts?" Jace asked through the door.

"Of course there are! What did you think the different sizes are for?" Clary chuckled as she washed her hands.

"I don't know…? Maybe the thicker ones were for women who wanted to wear them their entire cycle?" _If she thought his lack of knowledge for current events was baffling…_ "Can you open the-" She opened the door and nearly caused him to fall due to him leaning on it. Etched across his face were the remains of worry and concern. Though, it didn't remain long as he crashed his lips to hers.

He lifted her up, carrying her to sit on the bathroom sink and then trailing his lips down her chin and neck. "I'm - I'm sorry." She panted out. Jace paused with his mouth on her disappearing collarbone.

"What? Why?" He asked but not lifting his face to see her expression of guilt. Clary had no idea what he went through as a child, _what if he'd been abused? Was that why he'd gotten so worked up over it?_ She felt like wrapping him in her arms, healing his wounds one by one and showing him how much of his pain she wanted to bear with him. She never wanted to feel… helpless. Like when he was whimpering as he slept, when he would lose focus and stare off into the distance. She knew what suffering was, too well, and couldn't imagine enduring it for the rest of her life.

"I was pressuring you." Clary shrugged. This time he lifted his head and cupped her chin. This time, it was her who was afraid to look him in his amber eyes and face judgement. "There are things that I don't know about you. A lot of things, and maybe you don't _want_ me to know them."

"No, it's not that - my childhood was awful. I wouldn't wish it on-" She could have sworn that he was going to say _anyone,_ but for him to be the reason that she was here, for her to have exhausting memories of a dark basement - he wasn't allowed to say that she hadn't endured enough. "It was bad." His eyes stung her with pain. Clary hadn't ever been able to put a word to the look in his eyes, but it was _so clear_ now.

Hopelessness.

* * *

"Isabelle, you need to stop feeling this _guilt_." Alec whispered to his sister. She ignored him, forcing down a stream of arguments. Besides, guilt was just grazing the surface of her true feelings. How can someone describe knowing that their lack of attention caused someone to go missing. Her parents wouldn't say it, but the one job that she had, she'd screwed it up because she'd fallen in love. And love, love blinded her! Valentine was right about love… he was right to be worried that the only ones protecting his daughter were two young graduates. Why he didn't choose their parents was confusing to her. Yes Jocelyn would have been acquainted with them from her brief visit to London, but _at_ _least_ they would have had a great deal more of mother had defended her, telling Valentine that her daughter had no idea that she was supposed to be protecting her from _certain_ people. Not just the general population of evil doers.

"She's gone because of me, Alec! All the suffering that the Graymark's are feeling is because of _me._ Jesus, Verlac can't even get off his damn couch!" Her accent returned easily. She hadn't used it in a while, trying to force an American one on her tongue for so long. Her brother was speaking with his too. It was beginning to sound foreign to her. As if she were born in the country they resided in.

"We'll find her, Isabelle. I know we will." Alec assured.

"And if we can't? Alec, what if she isn't even _alive?_ How will we save her then?" She groaned. Her head was pounding with guilt and self loathing.

"Then we'll bring her home."

She didn't have to ask to know what he meant.

* * *

 **AN: A peak into Jace's childhood and I'm not sure I want to return there. I might write about _why_ he was put with Val- _Michael._ Also, I wanted to show Jonathan with a more compassionate side, before his hope was shattered into a million pieces and he turned into the monster he is now. **

**At _some_ point she was going to get her period back at her being close to a healthy weight. The only downside to this is that it will be _very_ obvious to Jonathan that Jace has no intention of torturing her the way he did. Though, maybe she'll be able to fight him off if Jace teaches her a thing or two. **

**The last few paragraphs may show you why Jocelyn thought the Lightwood children looked familiar.**


	13. Dead Girl Living

Jocelyn pressed her hand against her chest, flattening the part of her long dress that covered it. Luke was somewhere in the house, in the process of making her coffee while checking in on her every now and then. She honestly couldn't say if she felt sad, or empty. Through her pregnancies with Clary and Grayson, her heart had swelled each time, giving enough room for her to love her children both equally and powerfully. Now that her daughter was… _gone,_ there was an empty space with her name on it. Always there and aching. A reminder that she had failed her as a mother.

"Mom?" She heard from her bedroom entrance. Jocelyn looked into her long mirror to see sad blue eyes, dull and watery since the day they went to the police station and asked for a missing person's report to be filled out. His hair was as wild as it usually was, but she could see the flattened parts of it from lying in bed for so long. And his frame, how skinny it had gotten when it had been so long since he moved farther than the distance of a hundred meters at a time. His eyes were sunken into his head with dark shadows circling them. His face was smooth, pale, and devoid of any light that signalled content. Happiness.

"Yes?" There should have been a term of endearment at the end of her response. Should have been a _honey_ or _dear._ She hadn't used it in fear that Clary would be angry at her, from wherever she was. Grayson lowered his gaze to the wooden floor boards of his parents bedroom, not caring that his buttons to his dress shirt were in the wrong holes, or that he was wearing jeans with it instead of dress pants. Jocelyn noticed that instead of the usual obsidian people wore to… he was wearing a white shirt with grey pants. It appeared weightless on him, whereas her dark dress felt like a thousand pounds.

"I… Sebastian said he'd stop by later." Grayson mumbled with his chapped lips that had once been pink and full. Where she had occasionally caught them swollen from kisses he refused to confess to, they were flat. He stopped talking to girls, saying ' _they all look like her. Short, bright, even their smiles.'_ No longer was he the honor student, but the average one. He'd gotten into fights when someone had told him to ' _move on.'_ One day, he even came home with a broken jaw and bruised limbs. _Her baby boy, oh had she failed him too._

"Coming here, why?" Jocelyn asked, turning away from her long mirror and finally facing him. Grayson shook his head, looking into her green eyes briefly before letting his gaze fall back to the floor.

"No, to the - the…" He began to furiously shake his head and when Jocelyn glimpsed at his eyes did she see tears glimmering in them. His fingers shook at his sides, his body trembling as he collapsed to the floor and hugged his legs to his chest. She rushed over to him, fighting back tears of her own when he brushed her off. " _She can't be gone, she can't be gone, she can't be gone-"_ Grayson was whispering to himself over and over again as if it were his last prayer. When she saw the hands that he used to hold his knees to him, she saw the nail were spotted violet, a sign of severe anxiety. Jocelyn dropped to the floor and by his side, attempting again to hold him and sobbing when he scrambled away. His blue eyes were staring off at something she could not see, then focused on her, becoming wide with disbelief.

"You're not _real._ You're _dead. Everyone says you're dead._ " Grayson stuttered, and for the first time Jocelyn noticed that his eyes were pink and the iris large. Her heart thudded against her chest as she forcefully cupped his chin and brought his gaze to land on _her,_ not what he believed to be his missing sister. She was angry, yes of course she was angry! But more at herself than him.

"Lucian!" She cried out with a tight throat as her son's cold shell began to crumble, exposing the burning emotion he was forcing down. Luke bounded up the stairs and into their room, nearly tripping on his son and wife.

"Grayson, son…" His voice drifted off as he knelt down to the two forms. His hand rested on Grayson's shoulder, squeezing it softly before pulling his son to his chest. Jocelyn wrapped herself around his other shoulder and did her best to keep her son with them, away from the dark shadows that had threatened to consume him.

"Sh-she's g-gone." He hiccuped, shaking his chin roughly. When he squeezed his eyes shut, tears poured over and down his face slowly. Jocelyn did her best to wipe at them without setting him off, for he was so fragile at the moment. She shakily combed her hand through his mess of hair, humming in the hopes of soothing him. ' _You're okay, you're okay'_ she whispered as her lips pressed against his mess waves. He took rough, quick breaths through his clenched teeth and his lips moistened at the saliva that pooled into his mouth. "She's… gone." He concluded quietly. Jocelyn shook her head and cupped his chin gently, seeing a dust of freckles across his pointed nose. His watery eyes and childlike appearance reminded her of when he tossed a football and broke the kitchen window, how guilty he felt afterwards.

"No, not gone, baby." Jocelyn amended. "She's just… not with us." Luke nodded at her words, closing his eyes and for the first time in what had to be their entire marriage did she see baggy shadows under those big blue orbs. He never spoke of why he left her in a time of need, but he was here _now,_ when she needed him _most._

"Then why do we have to go to this stupid thing?" Grayson grumbled, leaning his head into his mother's chin and sighing when his father hugged him tighter with his strong arms that had ceased to lose their strength with age.

"Because, we have to show people that whatever happened to Clary, that we'll always remember as that beautiful, happy girl." Jocelyn said before kissing the top of his head.

"She'd want us to be happy, son." Luke told his son who lifted his head and looked at them both. "She wouldn't want us to suffer like this." He added, rubbing his sons forearms while Grayson turned to his mother.

"I'm sorry." He whispered.

"Why?" Jocelyn questioned.

"For yelling at you. Blaming you when we couldn't find her. I - she wouldn't recognize me. I'm not sure anyone could. No, not even now." Grayson admitted.

"You loved her, we _all_ loved her, and now we have to show that." She sighed, looking at Luke before nodding at him. Together, they lifted Grayson from the floor. Together, they took their first steps towards better, less sorrow days.

As a family.

* * *

Through the thick screen, Clary watched people in dark clothing with colorful flowers in their hands. The news anchor was narrating their actions, as each one tearfully laid a flower at the shining granite. Candles flickered in the rain that fell from the gray clouds. A few faces could she make connection to, like her mother, Simon, Izzy, and Alec standing next to Magnus. _There's still someone missing. Where is he?_ Some strangers parked their cars and whispered their condolences to the empty grave. Clary's stomach felt sick, nauseated that this was what her morning news brought to her. Jace was still asleep and his murmurs and whimpers had woken her up.

" _And as we all watch this case close on a sad note…"_ The news anchor narrated. Clary watched in shock as her mother broke down, a young boy holding her up as his father turned as to not face the carved rock that was now his stepdaughter. _They couldn't be giving up on her now! It was too soon! She was still out there! How could they just - just move on?_ She panicked with wide green eyes. Her conscious decided to lash out at her then, _you've moved on with that boy toy upstairs, why can't they?_

"No, no I haven't moved on." Clary whispered to the thick television. Now was the time that she wished that she had taken Jonathan up on his offer. If she were dead, her family's mourning wouldn't have been in vain. It would have been… necessary. They would have mourned her death and everyone would have moved on. She would have been dead and doing whatever it was that people did when they passed. She wouldn't have to watch this horrible scene take place on the morning news.

Her stomach coiled so tight she thought it would break, but instead it forced her to dash along the length of the house and to the toilet, vomiting her heartache out into the porcelain bowl. Normally, Jace would be at her back, rubbing it and holding her hair away from her face. _Jace is asleep,_ her mind whispered with a lingering thought. _Jace is asleep, he doesn't know you're awake, he doesn't know that you're so close to the door…_

The door. The door that she could unlock and run out as fast as her legs could carry her. She'd gained most of her weight back, and although her period wasn't as heavy as it normally was, she was as close to healthy as she'd be considering the circumstances. Slowly, _slowly,_ she exited the bathroom and padded down the second story stairs with the front door just a few meters ahead of her. _He wouldn't know, Jonathan wouldn't hurt you,_ the voice teased. When her hand grasped at the brass knob, she could feel the cold temperature of the outside threatening her. _But she didn't care._

It was unlocked.

Did he _want_ her to escape? Was he anticipating it? _No, this was some sort of trap. In no way was he this stupid or kind. He must've known that she'd turn him in._ But what if he did? The few times when he said those three gracious words to her, was he being honest? Is this what someone did when they loved you?

The door opened, showing her frosted grass and a sloping mountain. _She was on a mountain._ The clouds in the sky were so close to touching the house that she wondered if they were smoke instead a part of the atmosphere. Her heart was thumping, _thump thump thump_ inside of her chest. _Do it, run, run!_ Her mind screamed at her. She promised herself a while ago that she would listen to it, but sleeping with her captor wasn't something a sane person did. _Hide in the trees! Run you idiot! Before he wakes up!_ Clary was sure the last part was wrong, due to the sky still being dark and the street lights from the city below remaining on. She felt as weak as when she was being starved by Jonathan. When Jace was gone and couldn't protect her from him. _Would he protect her still? If he knew what she was doing?_ Her heart worried.

Frost crunched under the socks as she made her way down the porch steps and on the grassy pathway that led to her freedom. Clary's knees were shaking, begging her to return to her captor, where she… _Where you_ _ **what**_ _?_ Her mind snapped at her. She couldn't answer herself, knowing that her sanity would be furious with her. _But she was so close, close to hugging her mother and being hugged by her stepfather. Grayson would finally admit that he was glad to see her, her friends would get her totally wasted, and Sebastian…_

Was he even waiting for her? He hadn't made an appearance at her memorial, so what was he doing?

"Tell me what to do." She called out to the environment. She needed a sign, _something._ Anything that spoke to her and pushed her in the right direction. Whether it be a damn bird cawing at her, or the wind blowing her hair down the mountain slope. A sign that told her she wasn't insane for wanting to run back to him and beg for forgiveness. He'd shared his pain with her, told her of a time when he lived like her, how he struggled to know the difference between right and wrong when everything he ever believed in was _wrong_. How she was the only thing right for him. _Could she leave him, after coming to know his character, his soul that he claimed was long gone._

"Leave." A familiar voice said from the steps of the house. In the corner of her eye did she see his messy blond hair, his hands in his pockets while he stood straight without any sign of chasing after her. The cold air bit at her cheeks, urging her to make a decision. Here was her sign, telling her to leave. The sign that _she_ wanted.

"What if I can't?" Clary asked him with a shaky voice. Her vision blurred, eyes drying and then dampening with salty tears. "What if can't leave… you." She couldn't explain it. Couldn't explain how hatred burned into what she could only describe as passion. Molded her soul to match his own. Two of a kind.

"Why not? I'm a monster. A monster, _that has kept you locked in a basement._ Take the damn chance and _run_." Jace growled. She felt his stare, as cold as the weather.

" _ **I'm sick! That's why! There's something horribly wrong with me, because in what world is it to fall for the man that keeps you tied in his basement?! No, I don't just want you. I fucking need you. And that… that's the sickest thing about it. You - you beautiful monster! You have me in your grasp and I can't escape! Just let me go!"**_ She could see the words replaying in his eyes as he stared at her. As she stared at him. He was trying to remain calm, to keep from crying out in the pain she was inflicting upon his heart. He wore that same look when he told her of his past, when she asked if he had a last name. Could she leave him? Could she return to her family and bare their weeping over her, asking her day in and day out what she had endured. How would she tell them that her heart was no longer with them, but with the man that took her?

"N-no." She stammered, clenching her fists and biting the inside of her cheek. Her body began to quiver with the acceptance that she was… choosing him. He was giving her the option to leave and she could do nothing but throw it back at him. He had her heart on a string and was tugging heavily on it, pulling her to his side. "I won't leave you."

"Technically, it would be escaping." The blond corrected with the ghost of a smile stretching his pink lips. When she thought about it, if he ran with her, they both would be escaping. No, Jonathan didn't beat him into submission, but the fear he had over him was just as powerful. _Would he ever run? Would he want to run with her?_ Her fists loosened, tightening again and pushing her nails into the skin of her palm that was riddled with scars from her gripping her ropes so tightly. A forever rope burn. A reminder of how hard she was willing to grip onto him.

"I guess it would be." She responded evenly with a hint of amusement to her words. Clary didn't know how long she stood out, frost gathering on her socks and the lower portion of her sweats. Only when he rushed to her and wrapped his arms tightly around her, warming her as he buried his nose into the softness of her collarbone, wetting it with salty tears. Clary gasped at the coldness that fled her body, her chest, that was replaced by a fire that only they together could put out. Fire, in the most common sense, destroyed things. It took away their original form and morphed it to whatever it pleased. It did the same to her, to _him._ He wasn't the same person that had bickered with her in the cold basement. In his warmth he brought forth memories of when he placed his jacket over her once boney shoulders, cleaned up her vomit when she expelled emptiness onto her thighs and feet.

Now, after all this time, she understood what her mother meant, what she subconsciously told herself in a dream so long ago.

" _ **That's what will happen if you give up, if you lose hope."**_ And she wondered if some part of her did lose hope. If flattening her spirit the barest it could be was she finally able to let herself fall for what she thought was a monster. Who turned out to be as much a captive as she was.

" _ **He'll be sad too, ya know."**_ He was. The way he gripped her, held her and silently thanked her for choosing him over what could have been her _happy ending._ Some part of him must have feared her more than she did him in those first days, feared that she would wither away to nothing. She almost had when she denied food, encouraged a beating from Jonathan so that she'd feel _something._ Anything besides the emptiness that had eradicated her heart. And in that pain, when she was crying silent tears did she see the boy who wiped them off and dressed her wounds.

" _ **You'll see. Just give it a little time and you'll see for yourself."**_

She saw it, when he planted his lips on hers, she saw it.

* * *

 **AN: Ah! The angst... it's too much! But besides my allergic reaction to the feels, how was the chapter? The Graymark's are hoping to move on, while Clary is... I don't know. Still with Jace? No, that doesn't sound right. There was a slight time jump in this chapter, a couple of days at the most.**

 **Some of you have asked how long Jonathan had been gone, and the most valid answer I can saw is a little over a month. No, he's not just wandering aimlessly about, there's a reason! Though it _is_ helping Clace get stronger the longer he's gone. **

**The next few chapters may get a bit _chaotic._ Or not, depending on how you view them. I've been hinting at something, but I can't say what chapters the hints are in because I'm 109% sure you'd figure it out. You can leave your guesses in the reviews and I'll PM you if you're right. Unless it's a guess review, I can't do much about that :(**

 ** _On a random note,_ we're almost at 200 reviews! Regardless, I'll probably post the next chapter tomorrow. It'll help to know what you guys are thinking, whether it's just an observation to certain details or your likes/dislikes in a character. **


	14. Semantics

**AN: Thank you guys for reviewing your opinions about the last chapter. My favorite one had to be from _webofwyrd : __I don't even know what to think anymore! You punch me in the heart only to make it grow two sizes larger. Evil writer. Her family's grieving made me want her to leave. But jace god did he make me want her to stay. Killing me. I feel insane for supporting clace at this point_**

 **Chapter Fourteen, enjoy!**

* * *

"Are you having fun in Washington, babe?" Simon asked his girlfriend. Isabelle gnawed on her lower lip as she returned the stares of her parents and Alec. "I mean, I'm sure spending time with your family is fun as well." Washington, that's what she told her boyfriend where she was. That she was spending time with her family. Really, she was in the heart of her home country, trying her hardest not to use her accent and reveal her true location.

"Yeah, it's… nice." She chuckled as her brother gestured for her to hurry up on the phone as he had a boyfriend that wanted to talk to him as well. "Is everyone okay back home?" Isabelle asked Simon. She was nervous of his answer. The Verlac boy had no longer smelled of liquor and his muscles had returned with a vengeance. He got a haircut, shaved just enough that all there was left of his beard was stubble. His outfits had morphed from plaid shirts to sharp suits. Isabelle would say that he had began to move on, but the cold gaze in his dark eyes made her think otherwise.

"No, he hasn't returned. He didn't tell me where he was going, not even Aline, wherever she is. I'm… I'm worried Isabelle. What if he did something stupid?" Simon worried. Isabelle had something on the tip of her tongue, desperately wanting to tell him but not being able to.

" _Isabelle, hurry up!"_ Alec hissed at her. Her parents rolled their eyes at his eagerness though it was only her mother that sported a grin. Robert, however, frowned at his son. Isabelle sent her brother a glare, swearing at him while covering the receiver of the phone.

"Sebastian has changed, yes, there's no denying it. But he wouldn't do anything stupid. Not after seeing what we went through with Clary. He wouldn't do that to us." She reassured her boyfriend. Simon was silent for a short while, and she figured it was because she mentioned their redheaded friend. And then he began to laugh.

"Why are you talking like that?" He chuckled lightly.

"Like what?" And her brother's hand clamped over her mouth. She whimpered at the impact of his palm, growling and attempting to bite at him when her anger kicked in. Only then she realized that Simon was pointing out her accent.

"Like Sherlock." Alec rolled his eyes as he listened to what Simon's response was and lowered his hand to her shoulder to make sure she took away her accent the next time she spoke. Isabelle giggled at him before clearing her throat and mouthing a few words over her tongue. _American accent, American accent._

"Sorry, Alec can't get enough of the show and is _forcing_ me to watch it." She said lightly. Her brother released his grip on her shoulder and walked a few paces away to join her parents in a discussion about why they were here. "Oh, Simon, my parents are calling for me, I have to go." She excused, waiting for his reply before she had to hang up.

"Okay, babe. I'll call you… just call me later, kay?" She nodded to herself before replying and ending the call. Isabelle waved the phone at her brother, silently asking if he wanted it and placing it back against the wall when he shook his head _no_.

"What? No tearful declaration of love before we launch into discussion?" Isabelle asked him as she walked to where they were now seated on the living room sofa.

" _Isabelle_." Her father scolded. She shrugged and sat on a lone chair close to them, raising her eyebrows and signaling for them to begin a long and agonizing lecture. Their eyes drifted to the approaching footsteps. His dark eyes sharpened when he took in their stiff shoulders and clenched fists.

"Beginning the conversation without me, how shameful." The boy chided with his accent that he'd hidden around as many people that the younger generation of Lightwood's had.. The stubble that traced his jaw covered the generous look that his grin provided. There was no sign of the person she knew and cared for.

"We haven't even discussed anything important yet," A girl said in defense. Isabelle looked into the other boy's dark eyes that matched her own, a forever reminder that they were related. "So sit down, cousin."

"Verywell." The other Verlac nodded and took a seat next to Aline. "Tell me, why is it that we're _here_ instead of scouring the entire plains of the planet looking for her?" Sebastian asked with thinned eyelids.

"You know we can't just post his childhood photos-"

"Yes, _because he's dead as far as the world knows_." He groaned, throwing his head back and rested it on the couch. Isabelle glared at his childish attitude. "Why is it that he didn't turn the boy into an orphanage, why did we have him… in our grasp? This would have never happened if we sent him off somewhere!" Sebastian snapped at them. Aline attempted to calm her cousin before he sent a cold stare her way.

"Just fucking tell me how you expect someone to adopt the child of rogue agents without fearing for their lives every day?" Isabelle asked rhetorically. Sebastian crossed his arms and huffed.

"Why don't _you_ tell me how you mess up your _one_ job!" And then they were at each other's throats, him pinning her to the ground before she replaced their positions and straddled his hips. He shoved her a good five feet before standing, Isabelle as well. Their dark eyes locked tightly, his lips pulling back in a sneer as their family shouted at them to stop. It was all in vain, though. Each person in the room had been trained to fight till the other person was on the ground and begging for mercy. Animals that had no intention of stopping.

"Let's dance." He growled, raising his fists in a defensive pose. She grinned deviously at him before launching, wrapping her arms around his neck before he threw her back _again_.

"Stop it, both of you. _Now_." Robert growled at them. Sebastian slammed his right fist into her shoulder, making her lose balance and fall. No one in the room was appalled, just nervous. It was a warning shot, testing her to see if she _really_ wanted to brawl with him: a much better fighter than her. She gathered herself from the floor, scowling at him as she took a seat on her lone chair. He did the same, but with a much brighter face.

"Now are the both of you settled, huh?' Robert shook his head in disapproval.

"Yes, Dad." They both grumbled. She sent glares at her older half-brother, silently telling him that they'd duke it out later. He nodded at her, his smile tightening.

"Is he coming?" Isabelle asked her mother.

"No, Isabelle. Remember? Simon's in New York." Sebastian teased before she threw a cold pillow at him that accidentally hit Aline.

"Sebastian!" Their father bellowed, his eyes a blue flame.

"Oh you're just jealous that you haven't done that since Clary left!" Alec interjected with annoyance. Sebastian turned to him, Aline holding his shoulders so that he didn't lunge at his younger half-brother. If Sebastian had been raised with them, Isabelle was sure that they'd have a better, closer relationship. Instead, he was raised with his mother and adoptive father, though he still received the same training as she worked with Robert and Maryse. Maryse had told Isabelle of her father's affair, but she never expected _him_ to come out of it. It was a bitter shock to the family when not so long ago did the youngest Lightwood die of leukemia.

"Alexander!" Maryse cried out but she had no control over the boy.

"Fuck you, Lightworm!" Sebastian retorted, using their last name as an insult. Under his anger, Isabelle knew that he was sour over the fact that he'd never have claim over the name. Sure he could change his surname from his late adoptive father, but then he'd be known as the bastard child that Robert was to a coward of to claim.

"That's _enough!"_ Aline shouted, gripping Sebastian's chin and giving him a serious stare. "Not. Another. Word." And he listened, because it was _Aline_ that he'd grown up with. The girl who was practically his sister.

"Before I was _very_ rudely interrupted, I would like to say no _, he_ isn't coming." Maryse finally answered. Relief filled Isabelle's chest as she nodded in response.

"So why call this meeting? What are we even here for?" Sebastian asked. Everyone in the room knew that he was busy trying to find his _love_. Why was _he_ angry at Isabelle, when he could have protected Clary just as well being that they supposedly _belonged_ to each other?

"What we have to say cannot be said over the phone. If someone found out about what the agency covered up… that boy-" Robert swallowed loudly, shaking his head with reassurance. "No, if you wish to find her, if she is even to be - to be found," Sebastian growled in his throat at what his father was suggesting. "All we say that it would be in vain." Robert finished.

"What?!" Sebastian roared.

"She'd be killed anyway." He explained.

"What the hell for?" Maryse hissed out a ' _language'_ before Robert was allowed to answer. It didn't matter, all the Lightwood children - even the illegitimate ones - knew what he was going to say. Though some refused to believe his answer.

"Because she's seen him. He's bound to tell her why she's there. Why he took her." Their father answered coldly. Sebastian sat up abruptly and stormed off to the guest room he was staying in with Aline hot on his trail.

"Isn't there some sort of way? Some way that she gets out of this with her life back?" Isabelle asked him with pleading eyes.

"Unless that it is proven that a stranger were to have taken her or if she simply ran away - which is _very_ unlikely considering her father's occupation - then no, she'd be killed." Robert answered.

* * *

"Come on, entertain me." She purred, her hand gripping his thigh. They were sitting on his bed, after she'd woken him up from a nightmare. Jace shook his head and internally deciding if he should do just that or walk her back to Jordan and Maia's old room. He'd done his best at resisting her, saying that it didn't _feel_ right. That some part of him made his mind pang with guilt. That he was taking advantage of her in more ways than one. Clary's hair was up in a high ponytail, her burning waves winding down her back and out of his view. She had his gray long sleeve slipped on over her small body, even though she'd gained her way back to an almost healthy weight.

"You don't know what you're asking for." Jace swallowed, turning his gaze away from the obvious fact that she wasn't wearing a bra. Yet she persisted by winding her small hands into his hair and kissing his chin, pulse point and making him shudder with a guilty want. As badly as he'd wished for someone like _her_ when he was with Michael, she was still vulnerable. Like him, she was desperate to take her mind off their situation.

"Please? I want to make you feel good. I want to make you _happy_." Clary whispered into his ear, her lips grazing the sensitive skin. Her fingernails gently scraped his collarbones and up his neck to rest on his adam's apple. "Don't you want to?"

"Can't you tell?" He groaned and clenched his fists tightly so as to not lose control and touch her as she was asking him to. "And you're not… _well_." Jace blurted. Besides the fact that she was now over her _monthly_ , it was true - she'd been tired lately, passing out on the living room couch or even while he was talking to her in the kitchen. Though each time she'd wake up gasping from a nightmare and then vomiting the fear out of her system. Jace couldn't blame her, there were things that made him sick as well. _Like when Michael taught him how to snap someone's neck…_

"No, I'm better! _And,_ I have a little surprise for you." She teased with a kiss to his jaw. His golden eyes burned in his head as he dared to ask what it was that she had in store for him.

"What it is?" Jace questioned, watching her reach behind him and bring back- "No, absolutely not!" He snapped at her when she presented him with a rope. She showed him her wrists, bruises returning quickly from when Jonathan had spent some time with her in the basement.

" _Tie me up, just like the good ol' days."_

* * *

Her eyes opened to a dark room, the heat of another body gone from her side. Clary could smell… smoke. And immediately her eyes darted to the corners of the room, settling on the bright orange bud of a cigarette. _He only did this when he had nightmares, whatever they were about._ Her fingers gripped the sheets tightly as she forced the memories away. Forced that other Jace away.

" _ **You know, I read this article about how victims will sympathise with their captors, but I see that isn't you."**_ The words burned into her ears as she pressed her hands tightly to them. The burning bud floated towards her until she could see the outline of his body with the rising rays of sunlight. Bile stung her throat the closer he got, and soon she dashed off to his bathroom to vomit up the immense fear that shot through her heart and into her mouth. She was shaking, wondering how she could gain anything when she was always throwing up last night's dinner.

"Clary?" She looked at him with watery green eyes tinted pink. Lime in pink lemonade. He was still holding that damn cigarette between his fingers. At noticing where her tearful gaze landed, he tossed the burning paper into the flushing toilet. Her fear lowered into her stomach, resting solidly. She could feel it, eating her up.

"I'm fine. I'm _fine._ " Clary whispered sharply, moving to the sink to wash out her mouth. She couldn't breath through her nose knowing the smell that would greet it. His fingers traced the length of her back, rubbing it as she huffed over the white sink. She thought that she'd be _happier_ after choosing him over a life with her friends and family. Now all she felt was loathing for herself. Fear was a constant ache in her stomach as she anticipated Jonathan's arrival. _What would he do to her, what would Jace do?_

"Did I - was it me?" He gruffy asked as his hands dropped from her skin. She didn't shake her head but she didn't nod either.

"I can't leave you," she groaned. Clary saw in his reflection that he was confused by her statement.

"But?" He pressed. She exhaled loudly, not wanting to have to say the next sentence. Why should she have to when he knew what she was going to say?

"But I _can't_ stay here. I can't stay here waiting for him like some sort of target!" Clary snapped. Jace's expression fell as his eyes glanced at the bathroom exit. _Just leave, go._ Her mind growled at him. "When he sees how healthy I am. When he _knows_ you care for me, he'll kill us both. Or maybe just me." She sighed. When she leaned her head down, she watched Jace's fingers form a fist. Once opening, they gripped her thighs and spun her around to face him.

"What-" His lips were pressed so hard against hers that she didn't have the space to put in her response. So she gripped his biceps and mewled into his feverent mouth as he lifted and sat her on the sink. His hands straddled her waist, gripping tightly as his lips lowered to her neck. Clary wanted to scold him for using this as an escape, but it had been _so long_ since she even got the chance to be intimate with him. Whether he was punishing himself or her, she didn't know. All she knew was that they'd only _made love -_ as her mother would call it - once.

"Please," she whimpered as he traced the neckline of her shirt with his lips. Her hands were wound so tightly into his amber waves that she figured it must have been a slightly painful annoyance. His thumbs pressed on her inner thighs because either his hands were that big, or he was purposefully teasing her. Clary guessed it was the latter. She didn't know why she was so _hormonal_ with him. Why she was bucking her hips against his and pleading with him to touch her, to give her some form of release.

"A - a month or two… oh!" She squealed as he growled against her neck and held her hands above her head. The taste of smoke was on her lips from his previously smoked cigarette. It was as if he were fire and scorched a path along her body wherever he pleased. Wherever he lingered.

The pad of his thumb traced her wrists, and then he pulled back.

"I - I'm sorry." He whispered before turning and exiting the bathroom. _What?_ She was completely lost as to why he just… _stopped._

"Jace?" Clary questioned as she entered his room. He was sitting at the edge of his bed with the smoke drifting from his full lips. Yet another cigarette and the rays of the sun were barely seeping into the room. He made no movement to show that he'd heard her, so she took a seat next to him. "Can you do something for me?" She asked gently, taking his free hand and skimming over the scarred knuckles. He shivered, though not out of pleasure.

"Yeah." Jace responded quietly.

"I want you to tell me why I'm here." Clary answered. He let out a sigh of exhaustion, blowing another puff of smoke into the air. His golden eyes were dulled by obvious fear and the silent plead for her to take back the question.

"I don't know how old I was when _he_ took me in. Sometimes I dream of a man and woman caring for me, loving me, but then what would that make my relationship with him? What would I be titled when people discussed us? Jonathan had already been with him when I got there. He was so different from what he is now.

"The man that raised me," She quivered at the memories of him that Jace shared with her. From what he detailed, the man was _awful._ "He was always so cruel to us. To Jonathan and I… and the picture he showed me, showed Jonathan- well, Jonathan never forgot her name." For a while, he focused on smoking his cigarette while she waiting patiently. "Each time we were beaten, given lashes, starved, Jonathan would promise that we'd hurt him back one day. Twice as badly. Eventually, I don't know how we pulled it off, but we were able to leave that house of pain. Every now and then, people would come looking for us, and Jonathan would take care of them. We were trained - _raised -_ like warriors! So, of course he was able to overpower them!" Jace chuckled darkly.

"He'd leave every now and then to continue 'taking care of them,' while I stayed wherever he wanted me to. I owed him my life, I owed him everything I was and ever to become."

"But-"

"No, you don't understand." Jace shook his head with his eyes thinning into golden slits. "Without him, I would've died. He took some or most of my punishments, gave me half of his meals when I was barely a child. I had no choice but to give him whatever I could. Obey his order. If he asked me to jump, I ask _how high."_ He ran a calloused hand through his hair while she took in everything he was saying.

"And one day he got tired of people threatening his existence. And it became that one day in which he decided to pay back the man that raised us. The name of the little girl, he remembered it. He never let that name slip his mind while we were growing up. We were trained like hunting hounds: to destroy and bring the scraps to our master. It… _helped,_ to find her." Jace grimaced. Clary's hands became cold and damp with nerves. Looking at Jace, the rising sun reflected in his glistening eyes. "He wanted to get her first, but I - _begged him to send me._ I wanted to see that girl, to see what she had grown up to be. If she was as happy as she was in the pictures.

"Turns out," he chuckled with a throat muddled by emotions and soft sobs. "That I met her the night before." She stilled, rasping and controlling the bile that collected in her throat. Thoughts were racing in and out of her head, swiftly changing. _Oh Jace - her father - so it was only a matter of time until she was - is her mother safe - so is Jonathan 'taking care' of something -_ "Clary?" Jace questioned.

"I don't know what to - what to _think_." She admitted. His strong arms wrapped around, reminding of a few days back when he'd offer her an escape from this house. "So, I was kidnapped because Jonathan wanted to pay back the man that raised you." Clary didn't have the strength to say ' _my father.'_

"Yes." Jace admitted.

"I was kept tied inside a dark basement all because he wanted to be dramatic in the way he _got revenge?"_ Her voice scaled in volume. This time it took a few seconds for Jace to answer her a quiet ' _yes'_ which, only made her angrier. "And you - you _owe_ him?" She couldn't wait for a response when her stomach twisted into a knot and forced her back into the bathroom where she expelled a sour liquid tinted by stomach acid. Jace scrambled after her, kneeling to her level and holding her hair from her face. Her emotions forced another wave down the porcelain bowl. Jace flushed the toilet and she pushed her spine to the cold tub, bringing her knees to her chest. Not bothering to rinse out her mouth in the sink she instead twisted a knob of the tub and scooped water into her mouth and then spat it into the drain. Jace took a spot next to her, reaching for her hand and intertwining their fingers.

"What are you thinking?" He asked.

"It's crazy," she shook her head. "But, I figured once I learned _why_ I was here, that it would become bearable. That I'd find a way back home because I'd somehow reason with Jonathan. Now, though, it makes no difference. It doesn't change the fact that I've been here close to - what, a year?" She asked and he nodded. In a way, Jonathan was here because Jace was bound to him. Where she had thought it was _her_ that had developed Stockholm syndrome, it was actually _him_. He had sympathized with his captor, made a connection with him, almost as if they were friends.

"You were nice to me because-"

"Because I knew what it felt like. I knew what you were feeling, and though I wasn't completely courteous to you, I would have never hurt you. I wouldn't wish my upbringing on anyone, and if my decisions could make the difference, then I would make the best of them."

"And what would be the best decision now?" She persisted. He turned to her, a sigh leaving his full lips and his fingers tightening around hers. A small, small smile lightened his features. Her green eyes flickered with curiosity and whatever hope she had left after all this house had taken out of her.

"To leave."

"Technically," she started. "It would be escaping."

* * *

 **AN: I don't know how many plot twists I put in here, but either way "plot twist!" So now it may be clearer on why Clary's father hasn't done anything to get her back, because she'll have to be killed for her knowledge of Jace and Jonathan's existence, or if someone else from his past had taken her. Also, Sebastian's constant grief was partly guilt, though he _does_ love her as well. **

**Jace's dreams were similar to when he dreamt of killing Clary (TMI.) I honestly don't know how I didn't end this chapter with them banging it out at some point because they've only done it _once_. I'm just about as frustrated as Clary. **

**And the last few paragraphs - God, I don't have words to express. I'm sure you guys will! I _love_ the reviews you guys leave. Helps me when I've got writer's block- believe it or not. So thank you for helping me continue on with this story! **


	15. Monsters Are Real

**AN: Sorry about any grammar errors! Though I must warn you, this chapter gets... _messy._**

 **Chapter Fifteen, enjoy!**

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Her body was absolutely _burning._ Flames slowly winding around her torso, arms and legs without mercy. Clary's mind was in scrambles, quivering with hunger. From her spot in the kitchen she could hear Jace pacing in his room. _Back and forth, stop - back and forth._ He was packing as quickly as he could, the sound of drawers opening and closing echoing throughout the two story house. Her stomach twisted, but it wasn't with nausea. With her fears subdued and binging activity ceased, her food continued its cycle without disruption.

Clary gnawed on her lower lip, holding onto a counter for support as she refrained from pursuing her prey. _Get a hold of yourself, woman!_ She'd lost several battles with her hormones, pinning Jace to several objects. _Wall, counters, beds, it didn't matter, she absolutely_ _ **needed**_ _him._ Yet in the end, he won the war and denied her of the one thing she could not dine on. Whether it was the fact that she had admitted her complete adoration for him, she didn't know. If her mother saw her now, she wouldn't recognize the nymphomaniac that had become her daughter.

Her cheeks were flushed with a reason beside the fact that Jace had her in one of his thick jackets, jeans, and socks built for hikes with a knitted cap to cover the top of her head. She was practically on _fire_ in the outfit, fanning herself with a gloved hand. Well, it was mittens, but who cared? _Oh right, the man upstairs did._

"Oh!" She cried out as her abdominal muscles tightened. The footsteps upstairs ceased momentarily, and then started with a much quicker pace. Jace bounded down the stairs, rushing to her side and lifted her chin with a cool hand that felt amazing against her heated skin.

"What is it? Are you running a fever? You feel pretty warm-" Jace started before she lept and locked her arms around his neck. What sounded like the combination of a moan and a gasp erupted from deep within his throat. His hands moved around as if trying to decide whether to hold her or put her down so that he could continue his packing. Thinking quickly, she turned them and shoved his back roughly against the edge a counter she had previously gripped. He grunted in pain as she continued pushing him until he had no choice but to hop on, her jumping after him to straddle his hips. Amber eyes brightened in amusement as she tore off her gloves and felt up the skin of his neck, chin and cheek. _She had to feel him without the cotton barrier… of her gloves - mittens._

"What are you-" Clary shoved a _mitten_ into his open mouth to silence him, causing him to choke on the intrusion. Her heart was beating wildly in her chest, wave after wave of vertigo making her blink quickly to make sure he was _really_ there. _He had the perfect five o'clock shadow covering his cheeks, looking absolutely edible in his plaid shirt and dark jeans with a cap of his own to cover a good portion of his golden waves._ Her hands wound into his hair, knocking it off as she leaned in close to smell his scent with a groan. _She was absolutely carnal!_

She quickly unzipped her jacket, shucking it off and not caring where it landed. Grabbing his left hand, she placed it on her waist, teasing him with the option to either drop it _or -_ He coughed up the mitten and looked at her with disbelief shrouding his angelic features.

"Are you _crazy?"_ Jace gasped, gesturing to the counter they were lying on. Clary shook her head, trailing her hand up his plaid shirt, snagging a button with a question glinting in her green eyes.

" _Crazy about you_." She purred, giving into laughter when his eyes bugged out of their sockets. "No, seriously. I think I'm _losing my mind._ " Clary pondered as he propped himself up on his elbows. "I know you want to touch me, so why don't you?" She let her hands skim to the zipper of his pants that bulged with the assistance of his subdued desire. "Or is it because I'm the only girl around here-"

"No! Of course not!" He cut her off and sat up completely to hug her to him. Her eyes prickled with tears which blurred her vision. Hot saliva pooled in her mouth as she whimpered against him. A few sobs left her throat, though she really didn't _want_ to make such a display. _He must think she's absolutely delusional, a wanton woman controlled by her hormones and desires._

"I'm sorry," she blubbered against the crook of his neck. His large hands rubbed her back, easing a few aches that had gathered there since early that morning. "God, no wonder you don't want me! It's because of _this!"_ She grabbed his hand and placed it on her stomach, knowing he felt the swell of it and feeling the disgust that radiated from her thoughts.

"What are you talking about? That I don't l... _ove_ you because of your abdominal muscles?" Jace asked, kissing the corner of her mouth. Clary felt her stomach flutter at the word he had sputtered on.

"What muscles?" She croaked.

"That's all there _is_. Stomach fat isn't supposed to be hard." He chided softly, taking her hand and placing it against his own stomach where she felt hardened muscle. "See? It's just muscle." His lips were back to her face, kissing every part he could except her mouth which she hid from him.

"I'm not a _child._ Quit trying to make me feel better." She huffed, crossing her arms.

"Well, you have the weight of one." Jace teased before she was engulfed in her arms. With a long sigh leaving her throat, she allowed him to kiss her lips fully, to open her mouth with his prodding tongue. Again, her fingers found their way back into his soft hair as she took a step forward and sucked on his tongue.

"Clary?" He groaned, pulling back from her embrace and kissing the top of her nose before jumping off the counter.

"Right, we need to get going soon."

* * *

"Baaa…" Scott trailed off, flailing his dimpled hands in the crib. Bat grinned, shaking his head and scooping him into his arms. His honey curls brushed against Bat's neck, the smell of baby lotion filling his nose. "Baaa!" The baby squealed loudly, touching his palm to Bat's stubbled cheek and waiting for a response. His brown eyes were alert, taking in the tired expression of his guardian.

"Sorry, little man. It's going to be a quick story tonight." Bat yawned, exhausted after listening to his niece sing him the alphabet… _a thousand times in a row._ Each time he had to wear a grin, pretending that it was the first when she started up again. _Now I know my fucking ABC's,_ he growled to himself as he sat himself in a rocking chair, holding the warm infant to his shirt-covered chest.

"Eh?" The baby babbled in high-pitched confusion, grabbing at a dark lock of Bat's hair. Bat gave a tired smile, reaching for the floor and picking up a rattle to replace Scott's interest. With a laugh of approval Scott Kyle took the toy from Bat's hand and shook it as if he were trying to earn money on the street.

"Okay, let's see…" Bat drifted off as he scrolled his mind for story ideas. It wasn't like Scott disapproved of much, considering Bat could tell him of his parent's horrible death and he'd find it lulling. _But he wouldn't do that!_ So Bat Velasquez settled on just talking to the baby that was quickly growing into a toddler. The constant rattle of the toy had settled to whenever Scott exchanged it between his chubby palms. "So, how do you like the house? I, personally, _love it._ Then again, we don't really pay rent so why would I hate it?" He laughed at the stupefied expression on the baby's face. His chestnut eyes blinked slowly, tired just like the man rocking him. A small clicking noise was heard from some part of the house, catching the attention of both of them. _Damn it, Rebecca, go to sleep,_ he silently scolded his niece who was no doubt awake at that hour. Apparently, five year olds _loved_ to stay up at nine o'clock.

"You are _literally_ holding on, aren't you?" Bat asked the baby as he clung to his shirt, trying hard to sit up straight as he was rocked slowly. Scott grunted softly and nuzzled his small chin into Bat's chest, sighing contentedly. His long lashes cast shadows down his full cheeks, appearing like an angel to Bat. "Why don't we both call it a night, huh?" He offered as if Scott could reply with a simple _yes_ or _no._ Instead, he fully collapsed onto his guardian, babbling quietly as Bat stood up and carried him to the crib he'd been taken out of. Bat laid him on his back, pulling the soft cotton blanket over his small body.

He heard the clicking noise again.

With a groan, he padded off into the hallway, shutting the nursery door behind him as he exited. Just past his bedroom was the room in which his niece slept in, with her walls painted pink and a carpet originally meant to be white but instead being stained a light yellow. When he opened the door to Rebecca's room, it was an enveloping darkness that greeted him, snaking around his skin and pulling him towards the humidity that clogged his pores.

"Rebecca?" He called out, feeling her hidden eyes rake across his stature. There was a pregnant pause before she answered with a squeaky voice, surprisingly with grogginess as if she had stayed up for days on end. Not now, of course. Bat hadn't said her name _that_ loud.

"B-Bat?" She stuttered in her childlike voice that made his protective side kick in. His hands began skimming the walls for a light switch so that he could see she was okay. "NO!" Rebecca cried out. _Now he was_ _ **really**_ _concerned._

"Why can't I turn on the lights?" He asked curiously. The exhaustion that had made his shoulders slump was gone, his back perking up in awareness.

"Just… _don't_. Promise me you'll keep the lights off? _Promise me._ " Rebecca whispered across the room. Her voice burned out at the end of her sentence, squeaking too high a pitch for it to be audible against his ears. She'd talked to him like this when she was trying her _very hardest_ to be quiet. Which didn't make sense when she was already a silent child to begin with.

"Okay, I promise." He answered suspiciously. Bat settled for leaving the door open so the hallway light spilled in, carefully trudging over to her bed where her presence felt stronger. The moment he was close enough, her small arms wrapped around his waist and forced him to sit beside her. "Now tell me, what's got my little Becca up in a twist?" Bat tried to make her laugh, but only heard her nervous panting as her hands tightened around him. He could feel her nails leaving angry crescents on his abdomen, her sweet breath making the skin of his arm clammy as she remained silent. She whispered something against his shirt, but it was far too quiet for him to understand. "What was that?"

" _... he's here."_ Her small voice repeated. Bat almost laughed at how worked up she was over the supposed ' _monsters_ ' that plagued her bedroom. She'd done this with her mother, him, and even some of their guests. Rebecca said it was because she had no father to protect her, a fact that had slipped out of his mouth when she was younger.

"Honestly Rebecca! You're worked up over one of your silly _fears?"_ He chuckled but felt her small hand cover his mouth with her hissed in his ear to ' _be quiet.'_

"Monsters _are_ real, Bat. They're as real as you and me." She chided him. His dark brows rose but she could not see him or his face in the dimly lit room. He could faintly make out her winding brown curls that reached the small of her back, her gangly limbs and small mouth with her lips pursed tightly together.

"Oh really, then tell me: _what do monsters look like?"_ He teased. Rebecca paused, deep in thought with her hands loosening around him momentarily before tightening her grip as she must have _remembered._

"Their arms… they're long, pale, with dirty nails." Rebecca's _own_ nails dug into his side as she continued. "I don't know he's so tall." She sighed. He was surprised that she could recount the ' _monster'_ with any detail at all. An image was actually beginning to form in his mind as he pictured a pale, gangly… _man?_

" _He_?" Bat repeated with curiosity.

"His voice was deep, but his hair was _glowing_." His chest softened with relief. No _average_ human had glowing hair. _So she was talking about monsters._

"Why do you call him a monster? What if he's just an imaginary friend that just so happens to carry the characteristics of a monster?" There was silence as she tried to gather what he had just said. _She's five, Bat, Seriously?_

"He told me to call him that." Bat had enough of her imagination for one night, at least so that he wouldn't get nightmares of his own. Despite her tight grip on him, he pried her hands off of his body and back to her side.

"I'll get your mom. Do you know where she is?" Bat asked her.

"In the laundry room." Rebecca replied with her hushed tone that showed she was truly scared of the supposed ' _monster.'_ He began his walk to the laundry room as his niece had told him, stopping when the smell of metal hit his nose. _What was she doing in there? Welding?_ Bat pushed open the wooden door, seeing what was his sister's favorite whine splatter on her shirts and a few of his.

"Red wine, Sis? I thought you had the laundry under control." Bat said with a tight laugh. His eyes scanned the room for his sister, only to find that the only thing occupying it with him was the spinning washer and dryer; the dryer especially moving erratically as if his sister had threw in every pair of pants they owned. The red wine was rather pugnant to his nose and he scrunched it up in disgust. _It smelled as if she had tried to make soup of it!_ He walked around the room, stopping to see a stained shirt that was soaked crimson. Bat's fingertips prodded at the stain, warmth being drawn from it.

"I find cold water to get the fresh stains out." A deep voice began.

* * *

"Why can't I come in with you?" Clary pouted as Jace parked his truck. His cheeks were tinted pink despite her offer to give him back the jacket that he'd given her. The roaring of the truck's heater was nearly deafening in the silent space. Long rides had given the effect of exhaustion to her, as they had always done. Especially since the sun had fallen, all the more reason to go to sleep.

"Because I'll be in for a short time." He promised her with a peck on the cheek that made her forget her doubts. "Okay, I'll make you a deal. Would that make you more comfortable?" She nodded at his suggestion. "When you see the time on the radio read nine thirty, then you can come inside. That's just… five minutes. I'll be in and out that quickly."

"That's what he said." Clary chuckled, but dropped the entertainment when he sported confusion on his face. "You know, that's what a guy might say when… you seriously don't get it?" She groaned at yet another thing he failed to know.

"Sorry," he grinned before opening the door to his side of the truck, a blast of cool air hit her cheek. She watched him walk up to the front door before entering the house. _Strange,_ she thought, because who in their right minds would leave their doors unlocked at such a late time.

* * *

Jace approached the door, knocking softly before it pushed open. _Weird,_ he thought as he entered the Velasquez house. The living was full of the same warm colors as it had the last time he visited, which was roughly two months ago. He hadn't visited Scott since Jonathan left, and there was no way he'd leave the house and risk him coming back to hurt Clary. Now that he thought about it, Jace wondered how Jonathan was able to abuse another person like Michael had done to them.

"Bat? It's me, Jace. Your front door was open…" Jace realized that no one was going to answer him as the silence continued on. He walked through the living room and into the hallway that was lined with doors he hadn't entered. The first one he opened, he couldn't see much. His hand ran along the wall to turn on the light switch, and when he did he was met with pink walls and yellow carpeting. Sparkling drapes covered the windows that revealed a night sky. The white wood bed was blanketed with a blue comforter that was oddly disarray. The hairs on the back of Jace's neck stood up, as if he were being watched. Some part of him felt like a soon-to-be victim in the horror movies Clary urged him to watch with her. He swallowed back anxiety before eyeing the butterflies that littered the walls.

The childish theme brought him back to memories he didn't even knew he had.

" _Goodnight, Jace, we love you." The man and younger woman said to him, each kissing his cheek. The man had golden hair like his, but the woman's was a more plain color. Jace smiled in content, enclosing himself in his bedsheets. His night light cast shadows of stars and crescent moons on his ceiling, and he did as the man had told him: count them and you'll fall asleep. He must've been on the twentieth star when he heard a loud noise come from the first floor of his house._

" _Mom?" He whispered out, fear making his heart pump louder than his voice. His father had told that monsters weren't real… so why did he hear his mother scream just now? Even if Jace was tall for a four year old, he wasn't sure he could scare away whatever it was that had frightened his mother._

Jace shook his head, his fists clenching as she left the child's bedroom and continued his journey through the house. The next door he opened was that to a plain bathroom that just so happened to have dolphin shower curtains. It was cheesy, but nothing cried out in alarm to him. He shut the door softly, continuing on to the next door, which he knew by instinct. _The nursery._

He kept the nursery lights off in fear that he would startle Scott. There was a small night light, plugged into a wall above his crib. After a few moments of silence, he heard the soft snoring of the only baby he knew. Jace's anxious breathing calmed as he approached the crib, gazing down at Scott with his limbs sprawled out and his full lips open and shining as he snored. The baby's stomach was fully and obvious. It stretched his onsie of a teddy bear, and this made Jace see something he rarely saw in his life: innocence. Jace reached out toward him, pushing back a sweaty curl that had shifted onto Scott's face. The baby grunted in his sleep, stirring slightly before becoming immersed in his slumber once again.

Almost walking into the next room, Jace was caught by a _God awful smell._ Yet it was familiar. It reminded him of the - _unfortunately -_ several times that he and Jonathan had carried out Michael's every beck and call. Step by step, the smell grew powerful. _No, no, no…_ Jace thought to himself as he pace back to the living room and took a different turn towards a door that was another type of wood unlike the others. And the smell, Christ, it was as if someone had set fire to… _Jace knew this smell. When Jonathan and him had to clean up after their 'adoptive' father._

He pushed open the door with watery eyes due to the horrible odor. There was loud _bang, bang, bang,_ inside what appeared to be a laundry room. One of the machines was shaking violently, as if were being brutalized. Jace walked over to it, stepping over a stain of oil before opening the _dryer's_ door. At first, Jace thought Bat or his sister was washing towels or any other thick fabrics. Though, when the dryer finally stopped spinning, he gazed into shriveled iris' that told him he was _very, very_ wrong.

Jace had seen things such as this, done _this_ to a person when Michael had been training him. Him and Jonathan both had been experienced with fire and what it could do to a person, living or dead. Judging by her melted skin and mouth wide open… she might have been alive when she was put in the dryer. Seeing someone he knew as a nice, loving person, it struck a nerve in his chest. He stumbled backwards from the gruesome yet familiar scene with a hand over his mouth, begging his throat to force down any bile that flooded it. Jace's mind poked at him, reminding him of the supposed _spill_ that he had stepped over. He turned back to face it, tripping over something and bringing his face to that of Bat's burned sister.

 _Her hair was shriveled, fingers posed to claw at the dryer door. Why hadn't she opened it? Surely it couldn't have been_ _ **that**_ _hard, unless she were drugged in some way. Her mouth was bloody, a shining stump where her tongue should have been. If she weren't to call out for help, then that would mean the other members of the house were unsuspecting. Jace had seen Jonathan do this to someone when he grew annoyed of their pleas for mercy. A deep gash along her throat led him to believe that she bled out, so at least she didn't suffer too long. The smell of burning skin was so potent, so overpowering that bile touched his teeth before he forced it down once again. Jace only knew of someone so cruel to have done this to another person. How? Because he was raised with him._

He reached forward to shut her eyelids, feeling her heated skin stick to his fingertips and separate from her face entirely. "Ah, fuck." He groaned as he wiped her eyelids on the concrete floor of the laundry room. There was a gurgling close by that drew his attention away from the charred. Jace quickly pushed himself from the woman's presence to find the source of the noise, stressing over what he would find. What he thought were some sort of oil stains led him to another body, although this one was more intact - _and moving._

"Bat?" Jace whispered at the wounded man. There was some sort of tool shoved in his side, explaining the gurgling noise: _he was drowning in his own blood._ Jace lifted up his head to allow _some_ air into his throat. Bat vomited onto his chest. _This_ Jace could handle.

" _...wh-what time is it?"_ Bat asked with a hoarse voice. Blood pooled into the corners of his mouth. His eyes were rimmed red, watery with tears that never shed down his face. Jace debated whether he should take out the instrument embedded in his friends rib, or not bother to cause him any more pain as he were to die anyway.

"Around nine thirty, Bat, _who did this to you?"_ Jace questioned with burning eyes. _Wrong comparison, there's a charred woman not ten feet from you!_ His mind scolded him as he held the dying man. The tool in Bat's side rattled as he took in another laboured breath of air that was sure to grip his body with pain.

" _G-get out_." Bat hissed at the blond. Jace would have figured Bat to be angry at him but the concern in his brown orbs told otherwise - which were dulling quickly. " _St-still here."_ The other man choked out as he attempted to reach at the object that stabbed him with every breath he took. Jace could barely understand him, and in no way was he to leave his side. His friend didn't deserve to die alone. When Bat saw this, he choked up another sentence. " _Sc-Scott."_ He coughed before released his grip on Jace's hand, so light that Jace himself hadn't felt it. _Scott,_ his mind screamed at him with alarm. Jace stood up from the now _dead_ Bat and stormed out the gruesome crime scene. Jace nearly sprinted through the living room before an intense pain rattled through the left side of his face.

Landing on his back, he looked up and saw two blond staring down at him with the same scowl. At first he thought that his adoptive family was here to greet him, only for his eyes to settle on one and realize that it was the 'brother' he'd grown to hate over the past few weeks. A smile graced his ivory skin, stopped before it reached his dark eyes. Jace could see the insanity shining on his face, making him wonder what _happened_ to the boy that had shared a portion of his food with him, took some if not most of Jace's punishments.

" _Watch and pray that you may not enter into temptation. The spirit indeed is willing, but the flesh is weak."_ Jonathan hissed to the younger man. A coldness dripped from the side of Jace's head, settling under his neck as he heard Jonathan recite a verse that had practically been beaten into them by Michael. "Tell me, little brother, what are you doing here?" He asked him from above.

"I…" Jace had no summary for what he was doing here.

"Exactly. You have no answer! No answer for why you fell for that _harlot!"_ Jonathan roared as he brought his foot down on Jace's right shin, giving what would soon be an impressive bruise. Jace cried out as the pain from his leg and head mixed. "What?! You don't think I would have the house _watched?!_ You don't think I would wait for the day you listened to _her?!"_ He continued on. With the loud volume of his shouting, Jace heard the soft cries of the baby that had been sleeping. Jonathan chuckled down at the darker blond, his dark eyes consuming. "You're in quite the dilemma, little brother." Jonathan sneered.

Jace scowled at him, his fists tightening at his sides. "Fucking mad," he swore at the older man. "You've gone fucking mad!" He yelled. At the same time, he was subtly moving his toes, his back, his neck, testing when he'd be ready to jump up and attack Jonathan.

"We going back to our homeland, brother?" Jonathan smirked, bringing his foot back down to rest on Jace's shin. "Do you by chance remember when it was _here,"_ he added an uncomfortable amount of pressure. "That Michael tied a rope around your foot and forced you without food for a week?" Jace nodded slowly, not understanding the point of strolling down memory lane. He saw something pass by one of the house windows, wondering if Jonathan had men circling the property.

 _Clary._

He tensed his limbs again, begging them to regain their strength from the head wound. "Now, I want you to realize that she's _his_ daughter-" Jace slid from under his foot, creating space between the two of them before he stood with weight on his heels. Jonathan grinned at him, his fists tightening at his sides. "I see." He commented with thinned eyes.

"And what is it, _dear brother,_ that you see?" Jace growled, the two boys beginning to circle each other in the living room.

"I see…" Jonathan trailed off, smiling to himself and scratching his smooth chin. His dark eyes snapped to Jace, as if he were a shark zoning in on his prey. "I see - I see a traitor!" And he lunged at him, his fists colliding into Jace's jaw no matter how quickly he had tried to defend himself. It sent Jace flying backwards, his back smacking the leg of a table. The world spun around wildly before stilling. Jonathan advanced on his adoptive brother, a promise of pain in his trembling fingers. _Dear God, he's lost his goddamned mind._ Jace slid under the glass coffee table, shutting his eyes tightly when Jonathan slammed his fists down on the surface and sent splintering crystals flying in all directions.

"Coward! Just like always!" Jonathan roared as he pulled on Jace's injured leg and dragged him out of the wreckage. "You were always the weak one, _poor Jace, needed protecting because he couldn't take a punch from Michael!"_ He hissed. Jace kicked out at Jonathan, his heel connecting to his rib and a sickening crack reaching his ears. Jonathan appeared annoyed with this as he twisted his ankle to ensure pain would greet him as well if he dared to kick out again. Had he never been dealt pain before, Jace would have been in agony. Instead, he was staring numbly at the madman inflicting damage upon his body.

"Go ahead! Do it again!" Jonathan ordered, and when Jace didn't, he punched the flat of his shoe, eliciting a pained whimper from the other boy. What Jonathan hadn't expected was that Jace had crushed glass on his shoe, resulting in several shards embedding themselves in his palm. In Jonathan's blind anger, Jace lifted his hips and kicked him across the face with his better foot.

"There! You happy?!" Jace laughed as he scrambled back to his feet, wincing at the twisted ankle he'd been dealt with. Jonathan spat at Jace, blinding him. When his vision cleared, he was back on the ground again, his stomach on the floor and his chin in pain. Jonathan flipped him over, his skinny fingers cupping Jace's neck. As fearless as Jace believed himself to be, the feeling of air whooshing out of his throat that was currently being crushed was enough to make his eyes prickle with fright. His eyes drifted to the fiery mass creeping into the house.

"Look at me," Jonathan commanded sternly. Jace tore his eyes away from the apparition, staring at the intent in the older boy's eyes. " _I_ will be the last the you see in this world, for it is I who allowed you to live this long. Without me, you are nothing. I _made_ you into what you are!" He hissed. "And just as I created you into something powerful, watch - watch as I turn you into nothing. Watch as I turn you into nothing, Jace Herondale."

 _What? What the hell is a **Herondale**?_

Something slashed through the air and stopped at Jonathan's face, knocking him off of Jace. Clary stood before him, a red hot poker in hand. The heat and force of her attack had swiped off Jonathan's cheek, and yet she was able to continue on and push him to his back, impaling his throat. Blood sprayed from Jonathan's wound and covered her shoes, choice of weapon, and the surrounding carpet. When she let go of the poker it was able to stand on its with the help of the now dead boy. Her fingers hugged her stomach as she took in what she had done.

"Is he - he's dead?" She croaked, her knees giving in just as Jace caught her.

* * *

 **AN: Literally _way too much_ for me to summarize in the form of a few paragraphs. So you know what? I'll just do this. **

**Clary?**

 **Jace?**

 **Jonathan?**

 **Any thoughts?**


	16. Baby On Board

**AN: Any of you that have been reading this story for a while, what is your opinion on the current story cover image? Better than the original one? I figured it would be less bondage-y.**

 **~Chapter Sixteen~**

* * *

The sun was lighting up the morning sky without any sign of dying down. Robert Lightwood had on a thick jacket to protect against the cold, despite it being the middle of April. Maryse hadn't told him much when she asked him to join her on her trip… to somewhere. Now that he was in front of a building that showed smiling orphans and newborn babies, he wasn't sure he wanted to know the reason. When she scolded him for ' _throwing a fit,'_ as she put it, he stormed outside. So what if the kid she showed him was cute? They were _not_ his Max, and perhaps that's what she was trying to do. Find their son in the faces of other children. _And,_ the child wasn't even a boy! It was a little girl, who looked like the _saddest_ kid he'd ever seen in his entire life. Even his son, as he had lay dying in the hospital, looked happier than the girl with shadows under her eyes. He supposed those shadows were the only resemblance they'd have.

 _ **"Are you going to leave Mum when I die?" Max asked his father in a withering tone. He looked so** **thin,** **as if Robert could hold him with one finger without breaking a sweat. And his eyes, his eyes had a look of content in them as he questioned his father like he were an adult himself rather than eight. Robert was appalled by what his youngest son had asked him.**_

 _" **Max! How could you ask me that?" He gasped, setting down the magazine he was flipping through to focus entirely on his son. The father was forced to take in every aspect of his sickened child that had changed.** **Weeks,** **that's how long he was given to say his goodbyes. A few weeks to tell his child that he'd give him the world if he could just hold on a little longer, fight a little harder.**_

 _" **Because. I want to know. I** **need** **to know that everyone will be okay when I… die." Max sighed heavily and closed his translucent eyelids. His fingernails were purple, hands veiny as he struggled to grip the sheets. No tears slid down his face, his son appeared tired. And that's what Robert was scared to admit: that his son was giving up.**_

 _" **Who - who told you that?" Robert growled. He was angered that someone had told his son that his time was extremely limited.**_

 _" **No one… no one had to, Dad." Max said but with a sigh between his sentence. Robert gripped the arms of the hospital chair, waiting for patience to take over. Another sigh and his son continued. "Am** **I** **the reason you guys are not in love?"**_

 _" **No, son." He whispered, knowing that there was so much Max didn't know. That he had** **another brother,** **just over the stretch of an ocean. "Your Mum and I love each other, it's just…"**_

 _" **Not enough." Max nodded slowly. A pained look crossed his face as he clenched his fists. His blue lips pulled back as he hissed in what looked like** **agony.** **And Robert Lightwood could not do a** **thing** **to lessen his pain. "Dad?**_

 _" **Yes, son?" Robert responded.**_

 _" **I'm scared," the young boy croaked through his weakness. His eyes opened to show watery gems that broke his father's heart. "I haven't lived long enough, I haven't done anything good. What if… what if I go to hell?" He sobbed into his small hands. Robert raced to his son's side, holding him as his body shook with the whimpers that were too strong for his sick body.**_

 _" **No, son. You're absolutely innocent in this world." Robert said with a blurry vision as tears dripped from his chin and onto the white hospital bed that was tanner than his dying son. "If any one of us is going to heaven, it is you, my son." He assured.**_

 _" **I'm going to be** **alone.** " **Max whimpered, hugging his father tightly. "I won't be able to see you anymore. What happens when you forget me?" The Lightwood boy whispered. Robert wanted to hold his son tighter but feared to do so because he was so frail and breakable.**_

 _" **This won't be the last time I see you, Maxwell Joseph Lightwood." Robert promised his son. Max pursed his brows together, a question on his lips that he didn't have the time to hold in.**_

 _" **I would like that," he nodded. A long yawn drifted from his lips as he rested his bald head against his father's warm chest.**_

 _" **Tired?" His father asked. Max nodded, not answering, and soon, his soft snores filled the white hospital room.**_

And he never woke up.

"Robert Lightwood!" He heard an angry voice growl. Turning around, Robert saw his wife's eyes blaze with disappointment. He'd gotten used to the look when he told his wife that had recently forgiven him from his affair, that he had a son a few months older than Alec. Of course, she left him, but eventually came back. He owed it to max to at least try to make things work between them.

"Maryse, I cannot _believe_ the nerve of you! How can you - how can you even _think_ of welcoming another child into our life when just five years ago did our son-" Robert's throat swelled and burned with the remembrance of his youngest son, his youngest child. Maryse closed her eyes and for the first time Robert was able to see the grief she was going through as well. She was always so _strong._ She put her effort into few things, their marriage being one of them. Robert _really_ didn't deserve her.

"Don't you _ever_ suggest that not for a _second_ that I don't think of our boy!" She snarled at him. The handful of times that she raised his voice at her husband, it truly scared him. "And she _needs us!"_ Maryse added. This Robert rolled his eyes at.

"Why? Why does _this_ particular child need us?" He questioned.

"You'll have to see for yourself." Maryse shrugged, her dark hair outlining her face as she left him outside and returned to the little girl waiting for them. A few chilly breaths of air and he was walking in after her. The people he passed gave him strange look as he trudged along the tiled floor. As angry as Robert appeared, he was timid to meet this girl that Maryse was destined - _determined -_ to rescue.

"Mr. Lightwood?" A woman questioned as he approached the room he had previously been in. She was a good head shorter than him, her hair a bleached blonde. He nodded at her before the woman stopped him. "Are you sure you want to go in there?" Her dark brows were furrowed with disapproval, thin arms crossed as she waited for his response. Through the rectangular window, he could see the small girl talking to Maryse, but not her actual face, just the side of it. His wife was smiling at her. A smile that he'd seen when she talked to the one child he desperately wanted to hold.

"Yes." Robert said sternly.

"Really? Because not a few minutes ago were you denying to meet her. How can I trust you to be with a child when you act like one yourself?" The blonde frowned. Robert's fingers twitched at how she assumed that he was a man that hated children. That was limiting his wife by taking away the one thing she could not have.

"I lost a child, how do you expect me to react when my wife wants to replace him?" Robert huffed. The little girl was using Maryse's fingers to count, or something similar to that. His wife looked so proud of her, her smile showing sparkling teeth and eyes on the verge of tears. The girl was oblivious to this. "I - I want to meet her. I'm sure." He promised, and was then allowed to enter the playroom. Both Maryse and the child turned to face him.

Hair that scaled down her back in beautiful dark brown waves swept across her side as she turned to stare at him. The girl's skin was sun-kissed as if she spent the majority of her time playing outside. Pink lips, the bottom fuller than the top, pursed together as she waited for his reaction. She was small, barely out of her toddler years but the shadows under her eyes told an age of understanding. Her eyes, blue topaz's that were somewhat dull with a look of loneliness in them. Their color was almost exact to that of his late son. Though when she looked up at him, they brightened considerably.

"Do you speak funny too?" She questioned him with her head cocked to the side. Her attitude reminded him of his daughter. Robert couldn't defy the humored smile that broke out across his face. Her blue eyes thinned at him, as if she thought he was making fun of her.

"You know, you kinda speak funny too. Everyone speaks funny in this country." Robert sighed as he knelt to her level. His eyes glanced up to see a wary Maryse, reaching out for the little girl as though Robert would take her away. "What's your name?" He asked when he saw his question had confused her.

"Rebecca," she whispered, hiding her face behind her thick curls. His fingers twitched to remove them from her face that he couldn't stop staring at. Some part of him _had_ to admit that she was precious - as his wife would say to _adorable_ children.

"That's a pretty name," Robert said though he knew he sounded like any person that responded to hearing her name. Her chin lifted so that she could look up at him, her small hands locking in front of her. "For a pretty lady," he teased.

"I'm not a lady! I'm five!" She giggled. Both his and Maryse's breath caught in their throat. His mind threw him the debate that it was _merely a coincidence_ that she was the same age of the years Max had been gone. But the greater portion of it screamed _look! He's been here, waiting for you this whole time!_

"Five?" He repeated. _Rebecca_ grabbed his hand and touched all five of his fingers, showing it to him with an expectant shine to her face. Slowly, he smiled at her. Not wanting to give her any reasons that she should be fearful of him.

"Yeah, my Mom says that I'm getting old." A saddened look dulled her bright smile.

"And where is your mom?" Robert asked, wary that this could be a sensitive subject for her. Maryse shot a glare at him, reaching for the little girl before she answered him.

"The monster got her. I - I _tried_ to tell her that monsters were _real_. I tried to tell Bat that they were real too. But they - they didn't _listen_." Her hands pulled on one of her curls, her smile long gone and lips now trembling with a guilty expression. "Am I in trouble because they didn't listen?" Her blue eyes glimmered before salty tears trailed down her face and dropped to her crossed thighs.

" **I haven't lived long enough, I haven't done anything good. What if… what if I go to hell?"** Some instinct in him was scanning her face, recognizing the words she'd just spoken.

"No, no of course not," Robert reached out to hold her, hearing her sobs cease as he did so. Her small hands held onto on of his biceps, face nuzzled into his chest as he assured her she could do no wrong. "What about your father, did you tell him about the monster?" He asked after a while of her whimpering.

"I don't _have_ a father." Rebecca confessed into his shirt. Alarms went off at the words she spoke. _Max is waiting for his father!_ They cried out.

"Rebecca, what did the monster look like?" Maryse asked with a pained expression. Robert could see how badly she wanted to hold the little girl, but was selfish and hogged her to himself.

"He was… his hair was glowing!" She gasped into Robert's jacket. Her small face looked up through the protection of his arms, gazing into his eyes as if to see if he'd counter her beliefs with facts. "But his eye were _really, really dark._ " Rebecca added. A picture was forming into his mind. The characteristics sounded familiar to him. "He was taller than my uncle, and Bat's _tall_. Taller than you!" She chirped.

"Really?"

"Yeah." She said in a 'duh' tone. "I asked him what his name was… but he said that monsters don't have names. Only what their masters call them." Her small frame shivered in fear, clinging to Robert.

"What did his _master_ call him?" Robert asked. There was a pause as she just breathed in the scent of the man holding her. Maryse had moved a few feet closer to them, her hands resting on Robert's shoulder so that she was able to look at the little girl. When she finally said something, it was inaudible when her voice was so high pitched.

"What was that, sweetheart?" Maryse asked softly.

"Jonathan."

* * *

"I'm. Going. To. Kill. You." Isabelle spat at, holding a pair of mangled boots in her manicured hands. Sebastian wasn't able to hide his grin, so instead he turned away from her. Alec was hiding his laughter as a cough, scowling at Sebastian when Isabelle threw a boot at him.

"Really, how?" Sebastian said after his bout of laughter passed. Her dark eyes thinned at him, her hands twitching at her side before she stepped towards him.

"Easily." She snarled. Alec moved to stand in between them, hoping to stop what was threatening to start. Isabelle paid no mind to him, but Sebastian was more than annoyed as he played the big brother roll when _he_ was the oldest out of all of them.

"Guys, maybe you should-"

"Shut up, Alec." Isabelle seethed, pushing him out of the way. Sebastian wasn't the type of man to use his superb fighting skills on someone less adept, even if she _was_ his annoying half sister. Even if she was jabbing at his chest with her pointed index finger. _Even if she was getting on his last nerve._ "Why don't you show me _how a man falls on his ass?"_ She chuckled, giving a hard shove to his chest. He caught himself easily, grabbing her hand and pushing her back.

"I'm _not in the mood,_ Isabelle." Sebastian cautioned as she advanced on him.

"Really, because you were certainly _in the mood_ when you put Church in my closet!" He had to roll his eyes at how protective she was over a few shredded clothes and shoes. It was like she had some sort of maternal instinct that covered fashion as well.

"I'm warning you, Lightworm." He repeated with a low growl. Something sparkled in her eyes. _Amusement? Because nothing about what was to come was funny._

"Guys, come on! You've been at each others throats for the majority of our return home!" Alec whined as he grabbed at his sister's arm to pull her back from the pestered Sebastian. While they were no longer in London, their fighting remained the same. She jerked sharply, getting her limb out of his grip and jumping at Sebastian once more. He _really_ didn't want to hurt her, but if she were to hit him, then he had no choice but to defend himself.

"Cocky bastard," She snarled before her knee connected with his thigh and the flat of his palm met her collarbone to push her backwards. Sebastian knew it wasn't a coincidence that she used _that_ word with him. His vision blurred, a sign that he was only _so_ close to losing it. When she met him for another dosage of adrenaline he caved and collided with her at full force.

"Cocky _bitch,"_ he grunted as she acquainted her fist with his stomach. Sebastian fell to his knees, holding his stomach and waiting for her to believe she'd won. When a smile graced Isabelle's face, his hand reached out and jerked roughly on her leg, bringing her down with him - her head smacking on the carpet. Alec shouted at the two of them to ' _knock it off!'_ when another person's gasp was heard. All three of their gazes lifted to a woman in a pencil skirt, Maryse and Robert - a tiny head poking behind their protective stance. _What the hell?_ He remembered the situation when his parents had been killed, a social worker taking him to his aunt.

"Isabelle! Sebastian!" Maryse gasped. His father walked over to discuss with his son what had caused the violent exchange. Isabelle stood to her feet, offering a hand to Sebastian. At first, he figured she were to trick him, but seeing the pleading look in her eyes he took it and stood.

"Mom, we were just… practicing our skills." She smiled at the woman in the pencil skirt while raising a brow to the small child clinging to Maryse's leg. _Or the lower portion of it._ Blue eye stared at him with amusement, while the darker pair that belonged to his stepmother held disappointment for him and her daughter.

"Yes, _Mother._ Just practicing what those self defence classes taught us." Sebastian added, his eyes stuck to the curious little girl. "Pardon me asking, but who is this angel?" Isabelle and Alec stared at him with wide eyes as he had never been so… gentle to anything besides his missing girlfriend. He understood what the small child was feeling and wanted to do whatever he could to help her adjust.

"Children, this _angel,"_ Maryse grinned, motioning for the little girl to get out from her hiding spot. "Is Rebecca."

* * *

Her head was resting on the window of the truck, eyes shut but haunting images flashing before them. Behind her, she could hear Scott playing around with the plastic toys that hung from his car seat. Jace hadn't spoken a word to her as they drove, and she hadn't attempted to start a conversation. Clary couldn't think of a thing to say, how to tell him of how _great_ it felt to take the life of a man so evil. _But it was a life nonetheless._ The entire time that they had been driving, she'd have him stop the truck to vomit alongside the road. But that was only a few hours after she'd killed Jonathan. When the first rays of daylight had touched the surface of the empty highway they were travelling on. _Could one call it travelling when they were escaping a crime scene?_

The baby had babbled at Jace, seemingly remembering his face. He would smile and reach his hand behind him to tickle Scott, but the haunted expression never left his face. Occasionally, he'd reach for Clary's hand to hold, but she couldn't give it to him in fear that he'd see how numb she was when she couldn't feel his skin on hers.

Clary's lips pressed together tightly. She was surprised that her stomach was still pro-vomit as it was nearing the afternoon. Her nausea was mainly centered around the morning and she wasn't used to it stretching to the entire day. _Probably because you're thinking about the dude you killed!_ Her conscious groaned as she curled in on herself. Jace knew what this meant and slowed the truck to a stop. She threw open the door and hurled her stomach out on the side of the road. Seeing her vomit almost made her do it again. Almost.

Walking a good distance away from her stomach's contents, she sat where the road met grass, pulling her knees to her chest. She felt so lost. So different from the girl that had been tied in a basement and wanting to die. Dying then would have been a relief, but dying _now_ would be the coward's way out. Only because she couldn't come to terms with what she had done _to another person._ The old Clary would have thought twice about hurting someone. _This_ Clary could only gasp in horror at a life without Jace, and didn't blink at ripping off Jonathan's cheek with a heated poker and pushing it through his throat. Old Clary would have been _very_ scared of this Clary.

"Clary?" It was Jace, speaking the first words he'd said to her for the past hours. She saw Scott messing around in his golden waves - that were similar to his honey curls - with one hand, while the other held up a bottle he was currently sucking on. If it weren't for his brown eyes and the different angles of his face Clary would have assumed they were father and son. "Are you alright?"

"No, I most definitely am _not_ alright." She frowned. Jace walked up to her and sat down, the baby reaching out for her with his free dimpled hand. For some _strange_ reason, her heart swelled for him. Clary couldn't deny reaching for him and taking him in her arms, careful of the warm bottle in his grasp. Her eyes stung with unshed tears caused by none other than chaotic hormones. _Get a grip!_ She scolded herself, wiping her cheek with the sleeve of her coat. It was much warmer here than wherever the house was at. So much that she figured it wouldn't be too cold if she shed Jace's large jacket.

"I'm sorry you had to do that." Jace sighed as he pulled her next to him. Clary leaned her head into his shoulder, wishing that they were a normal couple going through a tough time, _not Bonnie and Clyde._

"For some reason, I can't bring myself to be." She admitted. "Because if I was able to go back, I wouldn't change a thing if it meant you being here with me." Clary could feel his breath on her neck, which meant he had turned to face her.

"Really?" She didn't have to turn to know that he was sporting an incredulous expression. _How could he doubt that she wouldn't kill for him? He'd become nothing short of everything to her. She couldn't, and wouldn't lose him._

"Yeah, really." Clary sighed. "Not that I'm saying I'm going to go around killing people for you." She amended, which made him laugh and kiss her cheek. The noises Scott made as he sucked on his bottle quieted as if he were listening in on them.

"You'll never have to do that again." Jace promised her while his hand tightened on her hip. "Well, unless you want to go after me for putting you in this shi- _bad_ position." He corrected himself upon realizing Scott was listening to every word he spoke. Clary rolled her eyes at his attempt on humor.

"Could you imagine doing that to me?" She asked.

"No!" He answered instantly.

"Then know that my answer will _always_ be the same."

"Are you sure, because if you haven't noticed, I'm a _major_ jerk." Jace questioned with a grin that made her want to take back her promise. _Well, maybe just to slap him._

"Unless you don't get me some Tums for the road." She threatened with a smile that matched his own. He leaned in and met her lips with his, making her pull back instantly. "Remember how I made you stop driving to throw up, and did that a few times already?" Clary asked. "Well, remember how you _didn't stop to buy mints?"_ She continued. Thoughts drifted through his eyes before he leaned forward, again, and this time kissed her despite her warning. The best Clary could do was keep him from opening her lips up to him. He grunted in annoyance when the pressure of his adoration did nothing but make her laugh.

"Fine, I'll buy some toothpaste so we can brush our teeth somewhere." Jace groaned before lifting them up. He groaned louder when Scott threw his bottle with a squeal, clapping his small hands together as if he thought the fast stand was some sort of ride. "You know what? I think we're going to have to stop at a hotel, because that's his last bottle and I'm sure he doesn't enjoy the car seat." He huffed as Scott continued his clapping.

"Hotel, huh?" She grinned.

"Why, Clarissa, what is it that you have in mind?" Jace gasped with a hand pressed to his chest. Clary nudged his shoulder with her own, careful of the baby.

"Nothing. Absolutely nothing." Clary teased.

* * *

 **AN: I hope none of you thought I was going to kill Rebecca! Even though most of the last chapter proved otherwise. She was hiding while Clary and Jace were at her house. If anyone is confused, the Lightwood's have decided to take her in so that she wouldn't gain attention from saying stuff about Jonathan. Though, they have taken a liking to her. I'll write more about this in future chapters - _yes there are future chapters._**

 **There wasn't much Clace in this chapter. I'm not sure I'll have them on the road _too_ long. Jace will most likely take them to one of his and Jonathan's safe house. **

**Leave any comments or questions in the reviews - or PM me - and I'll get started on the next chapter!**


	17. Imagine

"A cottage? Really?" She chuckled but couldn't hide the relief in her chest. When Jace said ' _safe house,'_ she imagined a brick building with steel reinforcement, guard dogs with sharp teeth dripping in hot saliva. She didn't ever think that it would be a wooden structure painted red, wild flowers growing here and there, birds chirping in their nests, a baby swing that hung from a small tree for the little one she had against her hip. It felt so… _weird_ to be outside. To feel grass tickle her ankles that were scarred from rope burns. Her heart was beating irregularly, teetering on panic and relaxation. The sun was providing a warm environment. Not too hot, but better than the arctic blast that would hit her when Jace opened the front door of his old residence.

"Well, Jordan and Maia were supposed to live here, and _that_ didn't turn out so good…" He shrugged, motioning at the baby swing that was moving back and forth in the gentle breeze. The wind carried in a sweet smell from the wild fruits that had fallen somewhere in the distance. "Jonathan had abandoned this place. Said that there was no way it could ever be considered badass." This was perhaps the one agreement her and Jonathan would ever have. Nothing about the house said ' _danger!'_ never mind badass. "Do you like it?" He asked.

"I love it, but are you sure we're safe here?" She asked him.

"Don't you mean _are you sure you're safe here?"_ Jace corrected. True, if the authorities were ever to come knocking on the front door, it would be Jace that they'd take.

"I meant what I said." Clary scowled, adjusting the baby on her hip. He nodded after a pregnant pause. Scott's wiggling feet snagged her shorts, rubbing on her hip. His sticky fingers were gripping her loose curls - that were shining as a result of getting her needed vitamins and nutrients. Clary figured that when she gained back the weight, that she'd look like her old - boring - self. Instead: her skin radiated healthy, her hips fuller and chest - much to her embarrassment - heavier set. Whether it was a guy thing, Jace was able to point this out on several occasions.

"Can we go inside?" She asked after taking the time to inspect the garden that was slightly overgrown.

"Because I was definitely going to keep you outside for the remainder of us being here." Sarcasm was practically _dripping_ from his words. He was right, he was a _major jerk._ Scott lunged forward, almost toppling from her grip due to the excitement of wanting to get out of her arms.

" _Ass,"_ she hissed at Jace as he unlocked the front door. Her eyes landed on a floral patterned sofa, wooden flooring and a cheap coffee table. Where a television set should have been was a large bookshelf with book titles she had no knowledge of. _Had he really done this for Jordan and Maia?_ It was domestic, a little too much. A wooden door was placed along one of the living room walls. A room being the most accurate guess. Down a small hallway - that had two doors that she prayed one would lead to a bathroom - and Clary nearly ran her hip into a counter.

The kitchen had the same old fashioned theme with it's vintage stove and refrigerator that looked like it was running on its last minute. There was a table that seated four with a high chair close by. Clary wasn't able to decide if the tile was yellow or an eggshell white - or just dirty. Something told her it was the latter when her nose was stuffed with the smell of wood and pine that made her stomach coil in nausea she had all but forgotten. _If only she could see a doctor._ Clary was getting worried and found herself wondering what Jace would do if something were to happen to her.

Instead of leading to a room, there was a back exit in the kitchen with a window instead of a screen. "There's a backyard?" Clary gasped. She pushed open the door as Scott continued to pull on her hair. There wasn't much to the backyard other than a border of trees and a small rectangular space of concrete. She figured it could be used for barbeques - if Jace even knew _how_ to grill. "How did you ever come across this place?" She asked him.

"When Jonathan and I had _left_ the man that raised us, we had to be away from urban life. He knew someone and I'd like to think he purchased this place instead of the alternative." Clary shuddered at what he was insinuating.

"Thanks for _that_ image." She groaned.

"Aaaccee!" Scott demanded, reaching for the grinning man at her side. Even if he was getting heavier, she felt a pang in her chest that made her want to hold him longer.

"So just to be sure, you like it, right?" Jace repeated when he situated Scott at his hip. Her eyes stung, blurring her vision. Clary wiped them with the skin of her arm, noticing Jace give her a concerned stare. "Hey, we don't have to stay here if you don't want to." He reasoned. Clary shook her head, cursing her wild emotions.

"No, no! This place is more than I could have asked for. It's amazing," she nodded through a sob that even had her surprised. Wanting to be closer to him, Clary scrambled to his side so that he could comfort her with his free hand. Scott reach across the small distance to place his hand on her cheek, his own way of asking if she were okay.

* * *

"I think I should sleep outside," Clary groaned. Jace had put Scott to sleep in one of the rooms that was designed as a nursery. _Jordan and Maia would have loved this place,_ she thought as she stepped out the front door to gain freedom from the _awful_ smell that was embedded in the walls and floor boards.

"What, why?" Jace cried out as he followed her. She looked at him, shocked that he too wasn't also jumping at the opportunity. The fact that he hadn't once scrunched up his nose in disgust was beyond her reasoning.

"Honestly, you don't find it - the smell - unbearable?" Clary had practically gagged her way through the day. A few times did she run out to expel her upset stomach. _The only thing wrong with the house and he couldn't detect it!_

"The smell, what smell?" He questioned with amusement slowly taking over his expression. Did he think she was crazy? Because she _wasn't_! Jace took a few steps towards her, pulling her to his chest that surprisingly carried its comforting smell of masculinity. His usually golden skin was pale in the moonlight, still warm against the cool breeze that swept through the tall grass and wild flowers.

"Like the inside of a vacuum!" Clary hissed into his chest. Despite her voice being muffled, he was able to understand and laugh at what she'd said. Her throat grumbled in an accusatory growl. _He must smell it too!_ "Just - go to bed. I'll meet you there. I need to catch a breather is all." She explained. His hold on her tightened, protective as if she were to listen to her conscious and run off. The only way she were to assure him of the opposite was to kiss him softly. Sweetly, like their first night together. _The only night they'd spent together in such a way._

"Come get me if you need anything," Jace said before slowly making his way back into the cottage. Her eyes locked on a bench placed a few feet from the unattended garden. A tired sigh left her lips as she seated herself on cushion placed over the wooden bench. She curled in on herself, feeling an ache of loneliness as she gazed at the cottage. If this were any normal situation, she'd be elated that she'd moved into a beautiful home with the man she loved and a baby she couldn't help but feel maternal for. Everything was too _perfect,_ just waiting for something bad to come and mess it all up.

"Snap out of it," Clary huffed to herself, pulling her knees in close. She rested her head against her legs, her mind exhausted from the dramatic change in scenery.

" _ **You think we're going to get married?" Clary asked Sebastian. The thought of marriage was… it made her heart flutter that her teenage boyfriend would want to have such a place in her life.**_

" _ **Why wouldn't I?" He questioned.**_

" _ **Well, besides the fact that we're only seventeen, and there are millions of people in the city, I'm plain. Boring. Why would you want to give your everything to an average person at best?" She reasoned.**_

" _ **Because…" Sebastian trailed off, mumbling something before turning to face her again. She leaned in close, her lips parted and heart beating faster than it had a few seconds ago.**_

" _ **Because what?" She whispered.**_

"Ugh," Clary groaned. She sat up from the cushioned bench and began to walk around the front yard. Grass tickled her bare feet, flowers brushed up against her calves. The babydoll dress she saved for her pajamas blew around in the wind. Despite there being no one around, she pushed it back to her legs - _that were freshly shaven after asking Jace for a razor._ A small pond reflected the shining full moon, and she wondered, maybe even wanted to know, what her friends and family were doing on the other side of it.

* * *

"How could you say that?!" Sebastian yelled at Maryse who was trying her best to calm his down with soft words and gentle touches.

"Son-"

"No! Don't _son_ me when you haven't been a father for my entire childhood! I'm not some replacement kid for the child that could've been!" He snapped. Isabelle and her entire family gazed in horror at what he'd just said. "And if you won't help me find her, than I won't be _anything_ to either of you," he threatened before pivoting and leaving his shocked family.

"Sebastian!" Robert yelled a few seconds after his son had stormed out of the house. Isabelle was grateful for Rebecca being put to sleep before he threw his typical tantrum. As _badly_ as she wanted to drive off and visit her boyfriend who was less than a half hour's drive, the tears in her mother's eyes gave her no moral choice other than chase after her broken half brother.

"Isabelle-" Her mother began in desperation.

"I'll get him," Isabelle grumbled as she kicked off her heels and began to sprint her way out the front door. Strong as he was, she could see him not too far ahead in the moonlight. He had ran between the trees - an unfair advantage to Isabelle who had nothing to protect her feet with. Though, this wasn't the first time she'd ever ran barefoot. She ran strong, hands swinging hip to cheek, chest tall and expanding evenly with each breath she took. The passing seconds brought her closer to him, her body preparing to tackle him when she was in reach of doing such a thing. _Plus, she really wanted payback for her mangled shoes from a few days ago._

"Isa-" She collided head on into his chest, knocking the wind out of him and cracking her nose. The speed she was running at put him a greater distance away from her when he flew backwards. Her cheek scraped against fallen leaves while her shoulder was forced into an odd angle. Before Isabelle could stand on her own, someone lifted her. Her mouth had already began to form the shapes of a curse word. Stopping only to yelp as Sebastian set her arm.

"What the hell?!" She shouted through the blood that had fell from her nose and to her lips. The pad of his thumb helped clean it off, and then she went straight for his jaw, her fist aching afterwards.

"Bitch! Why'd you punch me?" He growled as he opened and shut his mouth to see if she'd indeed broken his jaw. Isabelle shrugged at him. Seeing that her outfit was ruined she decided to take a seat in the forest, patting a space next to her for him to sit. "Do you agree with them?" Sebastian asked after a few minutes of silence.

"Kinda." Isabelle answered.

"What? Why? Don't you feel the _least_ bit obligated to go out and find her?" He snapped with hurt clear in his tone. She was perhaps the only person that wanted to rescue Clary as much as he did, the only other being Jocelyn - though she was clueless to what was behind her daughter's disappearance.

"Sebastian-"

" _Don't. Say. It."_ He threatened venomously. Isabelle nodded, taking a few more moments to give him the silence necessary for him to calm down. Or at least think straight.

"You saw the police report, the man was _dead._ D-E-A-D." Isabelle spelled out. Her half brother groaned in recognition. It wasn't something he wanted to hear, yet deep down he knew that if it wasn't _that_ man that took his girlfriend, then there was surely to be more than one captor.

"She could have ran away. She was probably scared out of her mind!" He reasoned. Even _he_ sounded unsure of his slapdash theory.

"Really? That's the best you can come up with?" She tested him, anger in her voice. When her and everyone else wanted to move on, begin mourning their lost friend, Sebastian was the one pulling them back, giving them reasons to continue torturing themselves in the belief that she was still alive and kicking. "Look, I'm not saying it's impossible, but… we need to move on, Seb." Isabelle whispered as she pulled her knees to her chest.

"North Dakota is a long way from New York! She could be trying to find someone to help her!" Sebastian cried out, resting his head in his hands as he thought out different ways the redhead could still be alive.

"You heard Rebecca, Sebastian. Why would Clary run off with a baby? What else would explain the other voices she heard?" Isabelle asked him, watching as his muscled back shook with whimpers. She leaned her head on his trembling shoulder, feeling his arms wrap around her with the desperation to take back what she said.

"I miss her too." She admitted.

"Then _come with me!"_ Sebastian pleaded. He moved away from his sister and stood tall, the moonlight outlining his stature. She desperately wanted him to keep his mouth shut. Isabelle hated to reject the possibility of her still being alive.

"Us leaving won't make the situation any better. Could you really just get up and walk away from your family? Disappear like Clary and hurt them the same way?" She asked him. She saw his open hands form into fists and he reined in control.

"I don't have a family." He whispered. She stood up, ready to beat the sense into him. _Of course he had family! He had everyone concerned about his well being. Even Jocelyn worried about his mental state._

"Yes, you do." She insisted. Sebastian shook his head, taking a few steps away from her to stare out at the dark forest. Isabelle stood at his hip, ready to chase after him if he decided to go on another run. "You don't get it, do you?" She asked and didn't wait for an answer. "We - Alec, Dad, Mom, Simon, Magnus, Clary's family - _we_ would be devastated if you left. Don't you think you put us through hell enough already?"

"Isabelle, can you take a second to think what you would do if Simon left? If one day you were told that he was just… gone. Not dead, just _gone._ That there was no telling if he just needed a break or your help. Just _think._ Think of how your heart would stop beating. Think of the crippling pain you'd feel, how you wouldn't realize that your knees have hit the floor until _after_ the police lift you up. Think of how breathing wouldn't matter because each breath without him was a breath _wasted._ " He growled in that same faint tone. "Everyone would keep bringing her- _him -_ up. They wouldn't let you forget that he was out there. You wouldn't be able to turn on the TV, buy the newspaper, take a _walk_ without someone offering their condolences. Without him, there's this emptiness inside you, a space in your heart that you made room for _them._ And they're not even here."

"Sebastian-" She began, her eyes teary and throat swollen from the painful imagery. Simon, _her_ Simon, what would she do without him? He'd pieced her back together after Max died, after she found out about the boy she was currently having a conversation with. Sebastian shook his head at her failed attempt to silence him.

"Moving on, _even thinking_ of another girl makes you sick. They all know, they all saw you in pain. They know that no love can compare to _that_ one." He'd temporarily forgotten about how he was talking about Simon. "And when you close your eyes, all you can see is _him._ He's smiling at you, happy as always with that foolish grin no one else could wear expect _him._ He was yours and now he's with someone else, crying out for you because they're with someone that doesn't deserve them." Through her own tears, she spotted his brown eyes sparkling in emotional turmoil.

"Then remember that he's _not_ gone. That it isn't you that lives your life wondering _what if…_ that you're not me." Isabelle watched him walk away, not another word exchanged between them as he left her alone in the woods.

* * *

 **AN: So, filler chapter, but still angsty. The next chapter won't be chaotic, though there will be some changes and tests of character. Someone in this story may end up sharing Sebastian's suffering. Speaking of his suffering, Isabelle got a sample of his pain. Maybe seeing this will have her offer to help him find Clary.**

 **Leave your reviews ( _because honestly they're awesome!)_ and I'll have the next chapter up soon because I've already started it.**


	18. A Negative Positive

"Jesus, I thought I would have to drive him home myself." Sebastian heard the bartender sigh in relief. He clenched the glass cup in his hand hard, knuckles turning white as he debated shoving it down the man's throat. Something that was a mix between a chuckle and a deep rooted growl left his throat and reached the people his drunken mind was most angry with.

"Why didn't you call us _earlier?_ You know, _before_ he drank half the bar." He recognized the voice as the rat who trailed behind his half sister. There was no way he wouldn't know the voice of his girlfriend's best friend. _Sebastian had to refrain from physically putting space between the two when he felt challenged._

"Aline said he's been doing better. Thought I could trust him with a few drinks." The bartender replied in his husky voice that scratched Sebastian's ears. _Better? There was no such thing when his girl was somewhere, needing him desperately._

"Well, she was wrong." His half sister snapped. Manicured hands gripped his shoulders and at first he thought it was a woman with the intent of taking him home. Though, they all recognized his face, which meant they wouldn't go anywhere _near_ him. So that only concluded that it was Isabelle. Sebastian shrugged her off, bringing his mouth to swallow the last of his sweet, sweet drink. "Stop it!" And the glass flew from his hand and smashed somewhere behind the counter.

"You better take a few steps back before I knock you on your ass." Sebastian threatened her, meaning every word he growled. His eyes were glued to the multicolored bottles on the shelf a few feet away.

"Don't talk to her like that!" _Fucking rat,_ Sebastian thought to himself. "Yeah, yeah. Call me whatever you want." Simon huffed. _Okay, so he hadn't thought it to himself._

"Sorry," he muttered. When the manicured fingers gripped his shoulder again, he was off the barstool in a flash, his hands around her neck with his teeth pulled back in a snarl. The hold he had on her neck wasn't tight, and she _clearly_ found this amusing. Isabelle never found him threatening. Her boyfriend grabbed at his arm, his fingers slicing into them as he tore his fingers from her throat.

"Don't you _ever_ touch her again!" Simon shouted, giving a good shove to Sebastian's chest. Sebastian looked down where his palms had been, a grin stretching his lips before he looked at the boy, eyes darkening with vengeance.

"Simon," Isabelle whispered. Sebastian held a hand up to stop her words from continuing. She wasn't at all scared what her half brother could do to her, and instead was worried about her boyfriend getting the shit beat out of him.

"No, Isabelle. _Clearly,_ he has a point to make." Sebastian said with a menacing grin. "So, rat boy, _make it."_ And Simon swung his fist directly into his Sebastian's chin. If he weren't completely wasted, then he would have defended himself. However, he _was_ wasted, so he took the hit head on. Literally.

"I'm so fucking _tired_ of watching you destroy yourself!" His friend started. Simon picked Sebastian up by the collar of his shirt. "You don't think I miss her too?" He pushed Sebastian backward, his back hitting the counter. "Well, guess what, _asshole,_ I did. I still do!" The knuckles of his fist connected back to Sebastian's face.

"Simon, stop!" Isabelle screamed. A crowd had gathered to watch. The bartender - Freaky Pete - could only watch in horror as the toy boys destroyed his bar. Once again, Simon pulled on the collar of his shirt. Sebastian had never seen his friend so _angry._ Well, extremely disappointed was the right word. They'd grown up with each other, defended each other in fights. Sebastian _trained_ with him.

"You want to fucking destroy yourself by drinking, let me help you!" He screamed, having the strength to lift him up and slid his back along the counter, knocking numerous drinks over, people screaming as they pulled their belongs off the surface. There were shards of glass pushed into his back. He felt himself begin to sober up, think clearly. When Simon's hand came at him again, Sebastian tugged on it roughly, dragging him up the counter with him. His foot connected with his collarbone, sending Simon to slid back roughly. With the added space Sebastian stood up to face his friend.

"Stop it! Stop it both of you!" His half sister pleaded. Simon and him payed no mind to her. Both boys were beyond turning back as Pete shouted along with her. The time it took for Sebastian's vision to clear up gave Simon enough time to lunge at him, yelling as he tackled him. He pinned him back to the surface of the granite counter, slamming his head down into it over and _over_ again. Sebastian growled - which sounded more like a roar in everyone else's ear - as he kneed his friend in the stomach. Isabelle was beyond screaming at this point, dialing someone's number on her smartphone.

"She was my best friend, _our_ best friend!" Simon shouted as they stood on the counter. Surprisingly, everyone was too engrossed in the fight to snap a picture.

"She was my _girlfriend._ I would have killed for her!" He yelled back.

"And you are, you're killing yourself." Simon said with a shake of his head. Sebastian swore he caught tears ready to spring from his eyes before the other boy wiped them. "I suppose I lost you too." He nodded. _Not yet,_ Sebastian thought as he prepared his fist to impact on his cheek. Before he could do so, someone yanked on his ankle, causing him to violently jerk forward and lose his balance. His cheek connected roughly to the surface he once stood on, Sebastian's dark eyes searching the crowd for who had done this to him. He stared into the angry blue eyes. Perhaps the only person he lash out at.

He tugged Sebastian off the counter, throwing one his muscular arms over his shoulder so that he could help Sebastian stand. A cab was stopped, they both got in it.

"I'm sorry you had to see me like that." Sebastian started. He heard a sniffle leave the other person, his shoulders shake. When they arrived at his apartment, Sebastian was helped out of the cab, walked into the lobby where an elevator would guide him home. "Please say something to me?" Sebastian asked softly as they began their journey in the metal box.

"What do you want me to say?" He responded, there being no evidence of disturbance in his voice. The elevator dinged and they stepped out. Well _he_ stepped out, supporting Sebastian all the way to his room. He knocked on the door once and it open quickly. Brown eyes turned watery as they helped pull him in.

"Sebastian." She croaked.

"Aline." He nodded. Her grip wasn't as tight on him, so he took the opportunity to drunkenly stumble after him. "Hey, wait!" Sebastian called out in the hallways.

"Don't talk to me until you're sober. Until you're the man my sister fell in love with!" Grayson growled angrily from his growing distance. Sebastian watched him take the elevator, not another word leaving the young boy's mouth as he did so.

* * *

" _ **No, please don't leave!" Sebastian cried out as he watched another version of himself - the morning Clary disappeared from his life. She was positioned on top of the other him, smiling down. Her pointed fingers danced up his chest, her bare skin the only thing the past him was concerned about.**_

" _ **I'll be back as soon as I can,"**_

Sebastian sat up in bed, his bare chest sticky with sweat. He could hear his heart pounding in his heart, could hear the labored breathing that entered and exited from his clenched teeth. He tasted blood on his lip, touching it with trembling fingers to find that he'd bitten past the skin and caused himself to bleed. His elbows dug into his white bedsheets. Their scratchy, cheap fabric making a noise that was deafening in the quiet bedroom and unpleasant in his hungover ears.

Drinking always did give him nightmares.

 _He was back in his apartment._ The Lightwood's were a boring bunch to hang around, and besides getting into fights… there really wasn't a reason for him to stay. Well, his _father_ wanted to discuss his missing girlfriend with him. Sebastian already knew what he was going to say. ' _ **Son, it's time you move on, find another woman in your life. There's no happy ending with her.'**_ The anger was still present in his dark eyes as he debated beating the shit out of the man that created him. Instead, he swung his long legs over the bed and made his way to the balcony.

 _It would be so_ _ **easy.**_ _Everyone would be expecting it from the grief-stricken boyfriend. They would blame it on her disappearance._ Sebastian shrugged away the thoughts as he grabbed a fresh cigarette out of a box waiting for him and lit smoked - a habit he'd picked up a while after Clary's capture - for the first time of that day. It felt warm in his hands, _just like her._ It made him feel better, less stressed. It was fiery, calling out to him and making him feel like total trash when he'd go a few hours without it.

He let a puff of smoke out into the New York dawn. His skin prickled at the chilly morning air, his muscles tightening when he leaned his arms on the balcony railing. The fabric of his plaid sweats was thin enough that there wasn't a point in wearing them to protect against the cold. He flexed his tired back, spat nicotine flavored saliva down the several stories of the apartment building. Behind him, Sebastian heard the sound of scraping footsteps. Of a girl exhausted from looking after him.

"Go back to sleep," Sebastian muttered; not bothering to turn around and face her. There was a moment in which he felt her presence, sensed her dark eyes burying themselves in his being. _Fucking creepy,_ he thought to himself.

"Why aren't you in bed?" Aline grumbled. He laughed, the cigarette almost burning the calloused skin of his knuckles that were surprisingly bruised. "I… why are you smoking? That's bad for you."

"You don't say? Jesus, you sound like my mother. _May her soul rot in hell."_ He hissed, thinking of all the lies she told him. The suffering she put him through when he found out the man that raised him was of no blood relation to him… that she essentially screwed them over. Not until she died did he learn that he was a bastard. Always would be.

"Sebastian!" Aline cried out, probably flailing her arms in disbelief. He didn't care. She didn't either. To her, Sebastian was just some family charity case that she felt morally obligated to look after. _No one cared about him._ "How could you say that about your own mother?" She asked with anger in her tone as he heard footsteps approach him. "Answer me!" He turned so fast that she fell on her back, looking up at him with scared eyes that matched his own.

"Watch. Your. Fucking. _Mouth_." He growled deeply. "Don't talk to me about _mothers_ when yours is alive and kicking… but, wait? She doesn't _want_ you." Sebastian laughed before pushing her limp form aside to walk back into the apartment. He stared briefly to catch her quiver. _Whimp,_ he thought as he tossed the cigarette on the floor and stepped it out with the rough heel of his foot.

"Look at what you're doing to yourself!" She screamed after him. He laughed, walking into the kitchen and staring down the choices of liquor. "She wouldn't recognize you, no one does!" Aline continued.

"That boy… he let her get away! Why would I want to be him?" Sebastian asked, gripping a bottle of scotch and clumsily pouring himself a cup. He could feel the eyes of his cousin burning holes in his back. When he turned around, her face was devoid of emotion. The cup of scotch he poured was almost to his lips before she started up again.

"Because Clary loved _him_ ," Aline whispered. Something in Sebastian snapped - _again,_ and he threw the cup across the room where it shattered into glass covered in an amber liquid. He was panting, _breathing in and out, in and out._ His throat burned at the failed chance to drink. Grayson's words repeated in his head as he realized his fingers - pail and calloused - were shaking.

"Don't…" He panted. "Say her name again." Sebastian finished, turning on his heel and began the trip back to his room. "Ever." He added before slamming the wooden door shut.

* * *

"Ary!" Scott screamed, his lips puckered as he demanded for a bottle. Jace groaned, placing the spoonful of breakfast cereal to the baby's mouth mouth. "No!" He shouted, slapping the offering away and causing a frustrated sigh to leave Jace's lips. The only person who could ever get the angry baby to settle was outside, doing whatever it was that she liked to do that didn't involve Jace. She'd been doing this for a while, and he worried that something was wrong.

"Why won't you eat it?" Jace begged. Scott didn't understand what he asked, since he wasn't even a year old, and began to weep for the woman he deemed to be his mother figure. "Hey, if she get's mad at me, it's your fault." Jace warned before standing up straight - having been bent over to feed Scott in the high chair - and making his way to the front door of their cottage. He didn't really _know_ where she was. Clary would walk along the property, stopping at certain places and wearing a distant expression. Sometimes it was by the trees, other times she'd be sitting on the bench close by.

"Clary-" He began before pausing abruptly. She had on long socks instead of wearing shoes, a thin white dress that reached mid thigh. _Must've decided to stay in pajamas,_ Jace thought to himself. Her skin practically glowed in the fresh sunlight. The sunlight, which made her loose dress transparent. At least enough for him to see the outline of her body underneath it. Sticking out to tear his eyes away from the silhouette of her breasts… was a bump.

" _ **You mean I'm going to be a brother?" Jace asked the woman who had her hand placed against her abdomen. She laughed, along with the man next to her. His golden eyes twinkled with paternal love, reaching down to lift his son up and onto his lap. Jace wondered why he never looked at his mother in any way close to that.**_

" _ **A big brother, you're going to be a big brother." His mother giggled. Her voice was high pitched, like his. But his father's voice was low and mature. Sometimes, he saw changes in his mother, the curve of her hips, her height. As if she grew along with him. Jace had heard his grandmother call her 'barely an adult.'**_

" _ **How?" Jace questioned. His father bounced him on his knee, a laugh escaping his throat. His mother, however, didn't look pleased at his father's amusement.**_

" _ **Well, my boy, when a man likes a woman," Jace saw disappointment cross his mother's face before she smiled at him, ruffling his hair. "Okay, love. Doesn't matter, anyway… when a man and a woman**_ **care** _ **about one another, they use that connection to create new life." His father finished. The explanation, Jace decided, was very vague. So his mother began to add to it.**_

" _ **The Mommy makes space in her heart for the baby to grow, and when he comes out, he loves the parents just as much as they loved one another. We made you like that, my sweet, sweet boy." She cooed.**_

" _ **Did you get sick from the space in your heart?" Jace asked her. She laughed at his question, while his father groaned.**_

" _ **Sort of. Just for a little while, but it was worth it." She answered sweetly. Jace then turned to his father.**_

" _ **How much love did you have for Mommy before she made me?" Jace asked, slightly confused on the structure of his question. His father appeared startled by what his son had asked him.**_

" _ **It doesn't take much to create a baby, Jace. Loving someone once is enough." He answered. His mother gasped, her eyes flooding with water before she stood up, kissed Jace's cheek, and left the room. Her hand was holding the slight bump on her stomach as she fled, as if his father could take the baby back. "When you make a baby, Jace, promise me you think about it. Don't do it… because someone says it's best for you. Promise me that, son." His father asked with pleading eyes.**_

" _ **I - I promise."**_

"Jace?" Clary asked, appearing in front of him. He almost lost his balance. She laughed at him, a sound so beautiful against his ears. "Are you okay?" Clary giggled. His eyes were trained on her abdomen, it appeared smooth when he was so close to her. _But he was sure he saw something._ Clary placed her hands in front of her stomach, her cheeks flushed as she did so. "Maybe I should start running or something." She blurted.

"What?" Jace asked after a moment of silence. Clary sighed before realizing there was a baby shouting for her in the kitchen. Jace walked with her to the back room and when she was close enough, Scott grabbed at her waist before she could decide to move away. The baby fit almost perfectly against her side. _Anyone can hold a baby,_ Jace reasoned with himself.

"I was thinking that maybe I should go on some sort of diet… why are you looking at me like that?" Clary asked him as her eyebrows rose in confusion. Her eyes lowered to his hands - he realized - that were shaking. "Jace?" His mouth was full of words he want to get out. _He had to do it now, quickly, cleanly._

"The last time we had sex, you got your period, right?" He blurted. They both recalled the _one time_ she'd bled. Clary's face turned a tomato red. Almost matching the color of her hair as her jaw unhinged to gawk at him. Scott patted her cheek, silently asking if she were okay.

" … yeah?" She motioned for him to continued. Jace didn't know what words could follow _that_ statement.

"No… I was just… forget it." His face was blank for a few silent seconds before he smiled falsely. Clary hesitantly returned it. They dropped the subject immediately, talking about other things such as when Scott would begin to take his first steps - he'd already learned to crawl. Clary would go on about something else and he'd nod his head politely as if he were listening when _really_ he was trying to avoid staring at her abdomen. Sometimes Clary would stop talking, asking him if something were wrong, and then continued with whatever she was saying. After attempting - and succeeding in getting Scott to eat his strange breakfast - she set the baby down and muttered something about needing to take a nap.

When she had fallen asleep on the bed, Jace crept into their room, taking a spot next to her. He debated his actions for a few _long_ minutes. Mind determined, he extended his arms to the hem of her thin dress, pulling it back slowly as to not wake her. The white fabric slid up her radiant skin, revealing her smooth thighs and navy blue panties. But this was not his mission. No, his mission was the protruding skin that hovered over the elastic band of her underwear. It was so small that she could've been right about gaining a few pounds. However, he couldn't ignore the events surrounding the bump. _The nausea, grogginess, missed monthlies..._ _No, no, no, no, no._ Jace's chest tightened in anxiety.

He swallowed loudly, letting the fabric of her dress drop back to her skin. He set his back against the headboard of the bed wondering what to do. How to do it. Jace willed himself to dismiss what he'd started to plan. Yet the gears in his head wouldn't cease their turning.

Because once they started, there was no stopping them.

* * *

 **AN: Sebastian reminding you of a certain someone? Smoking and anger issues, sound familiar? And what could Jace have planned? I'm not even going to _start_ on the possible bombshell because this author's note is going to be lengthy if I do so. What do you guys think of the situation? Tell me in the reviews because I need an opinion!**


	19. Life or Death

Jace had his hands pressed to the sink, taking deep, _deep_ breaths. Each one hissing out of his clenched teeth. _What was he going to do?_ Of course, he would never force her into something like _this._ He couldn't even _think_ the situation to himself for the fear of something horrible happening. Though, it wasn't like they could schedule a doctor's appointment. _Yet another option he'd taken from her._

There was already so much he'd taken from her. He was the reason she couldn't run home to her family, even though he gave her the choice to run freely. Deep down they both knew that leaving one another wasn't an option. Loved her? More than he loved breathing in clean air. He'd take a beating for her, take his own life for her. But… could he create a life for her? Yes, yes he could somehow be able to create something extraordinary with her. It would have a unique name, have Clary's eyes and his blond hair. It would love them both. But _that_ wasn't what Jace meant. To create a life for her was to take her into the city, get a picture taken with her, with Scott. As a _family._ He'd never be able to put a ring on her finger, legally declare them as two parts of one whole. _And she'd look so lovely in a white dress, her hair done up special, her stomach round and skin glowing._

Though, that was _impossible._ It was impossible to _imagine_ her carrying something so impossible.

But would she want to keep it? Would she love the baby like she clearly loved Scott. Yes, it was possible. She would love it to the moon and back - as his mother would say to him. She'd hold it tightly, next to her heart, sing it the song he'd hum to her. She'd love it - as much as he feared - more than him. In the world they lived in, however, love wasn't enough. Love could not keep an unborn child healthy, perform checkups on them, help her push it into the world.

He remembered Maia, her hope for the baby kicking inside of her. She would be reassuring Jordan each and everyday, squealing when the baby kicked. Jace wondered what it would be like - to press his hand against Clary's rounded stomach - would his eyes get watery like Jordan's? Then Jace wondered what it would be like to be Jordan… after the baby was born. To watch Maia bleed out across the length of the kitchen tiles. To watch her brown eyes dull, watch them close with the promise of never opening again. What would Jace do _then?_ What would he do when Clary needed something he could not provide? What if… what if the baby didn't make it - all because he wanted this perfect life with her and Scott. She'd never forgive him.

 _He'd_ never forgive himself.

The image of Michael's pained face was enough for Jace to imagine what the loss of a child felt like. Would… Jace turn into him? Would he turn cruel and vengeful, beating Scott and the baby that would have killed the love of his life? Would he turn into the monster Jonathan and him promised not to be? Just the thought of losing Clary was enough to drive him mad. The real thing would absolutely _destroy_ him.

Jace _wouldn't_ be a monster. His careless actions had cost him nothing, _so far._ Now, though, there was a decision to be made. He walked out of the bathroom, turning and entering the kitchen. On the small wooden table rested a few pieces of tanned paper, stained with water from the times Jace had used them as a coaster. He shoved them in his pocket, saving them for the near future.

Scott was babbling in his crib, so Jace made his way to the nursery. _It was almost too easy to imagine his child growing up in there._ He was gripping the railing, one dimpled hand sticky with what Jace concluded was drool. How? Because the other was in his mouth.

"Aaacee!" The baby squealed as Jace approached him. He tore his hand from his mouth and the other from the crib, reaching for the man that was the closest thing he had to a father. "Ary?" Scott wondered, his head poking over Jace's shoulder.

"You'll understand… later." Jace whispered as he carried the infant outside of his room.

* * *

She woke up, a pain in her lower back, _how long had she been asleep?_ Clary's eyes lazily adjusted to the room. The sun cast a golden glow, tanning the white walls. Her fingers pushed down on the hard mattress spring to sit up. A wave - more like a shove - of vertigo gave her a headache. Her nose felt congested, as it had been for the past few weeks. Clary blamed it on the change in the environment, or her need to sleep on her side. The pain her back was proof that she shouldn't do that. As she scrunched her nose up in the smell of… baby formula? Like someone had spilled the powder in the process of making Scott a bottle. Then she noticed that she could not _hear_ Scott.

"Jace?" Clary called out, her feet swinging over the bed and touching the wooden floor. Pushing down on the mattress again; she was able to stand up and trudge her way to the bedroom door. Okay, maybe it was more like a waddle - _as Jace had so amusingly called it._ The heel of her feel snagged on a splinter when she successfully opened the door. Clary lifted her feet up, just as another wave of vertigo hit her and knocked her down to the hard floor. Someone screamed inside her mind: _fall on your back!_ It commanded as crashed to the surface. Still, Clary did as it asked, holding back tears when her head smacked on the floor boards. Her vision was blurred for a few seconds, the smell of baby powder stronger than ever. Dust was sparkling in the air. As white as snow. Though it carried the source of the sour smell. She lifted her small hand in the air, touching it and bringing it to her nose.

 _Baby powder._

Clary sat up and examined the floor she had fallen on. There were smears of the familiar substance, trailing up the hallway and into the living room. She groaned, realizing that Scott might have grabbed some if Jace placed it anywhere _near_ the floor.

"Jace?" Clary called out. _Probably outside,_ she thought to herself when the silence stretched on. She stood up from the floor, wobbling slightly. The splinter in Clary's heel throbbed when she put too much weight on it, but she seemed to forget about it when she felt her stomach flutter. _Hungry?_ Clary wondered as she walked to the kitchen. Once in the room, she made her way to one of the cabinets with the intent of finding some crackers.

"Great, we're out of formula… _just had to spill it."_ She huffed at the disappearance of the large cans. Shoving some of their supplies aside, Clary noticed his rice pudding was gone too. _Scott's going to be pissed,_ she smiled at the thought of Jace having to explain to a baby why he couldn't eat his favorite meal. "You're in for it, blondie." She grinned as she pulled out the crackers she had been searching for. Clary chalked her craving as the salty meat she had been so used to, with the salty part staying and the meat leaving. The golden sun was lowering, tinting the color of the kitchen walls.

Taking some steps forward, she opened the back door. "Jace!" Clary beckoned. When no answer came after a few minutes, she figured he was in the front yard pushing Scott on the swing. After setting the crackers down she took quick steps toward the living room, stopping when a tan paper caught her eye. The writing was sloppy, but she was able to decipher it.

 _ **18:27**_

 _What?_ She thought to herself when her eyes read the short note. Clary didn't know why Jace had this lying around but decided to hold it and ask him about the note when she found him. When she opened the front door her bare legs were tickled by a warm evening breeze. The wildflowers swayed in the wind, birds were chirping as usual. As her emerald eyes searched the yard, she found Scott's swing unattended. No child occupying it. _They're playing in the dirt, those boys,_ she groaned internally at the thought of bathing the two of them. Leave it to Jace to make sure the baby stayed clean.

Her stomach fluttered again. "Don't worry, we'll get some food." She soothed with a hand placed against the solid skin, and surprisingly, it stopped. Clary wondered if Jace was going to make something special. If he were going to prepare a soup for her upset stomach, offer her some liquor that she promised to stay away from. _What harm could it do now that they were isolated?_ The first few steps outside reminded her of the throbbing splinter in her heel. Jace was always the one to warn her about walking around barefoot. _Just say you tripped,_ she suggested to herself.

"Jace!" Clary called out for what had to be… _where were they?_ She worried when there wasn't a response. Slowly, unwillingly, she slid her gaze to where Jace's truck was parked - or where it _had_ been parked. The paper in her hand made a crackling noise as she tightened her grip on it. Jace promised to tell her whenever he had to go on a run, of course she was upset by that. Though, what made her cheeks redden in anger was the fact that he had taken _the baby_ \- Scott - with him. Her chest coiled in uncertainty, fearing when he would come back.

"Eighteen twenty-seven." Clary whispered to herself. _Almost six thirty._ Time was never a problem. There was simply no need for it when they could spend forever in their beautiful property. With nothing to do, no plans being made for the future, time wasn't a necessity. _And yet he wrote the time down… why?_ A pang of doubt settled low in her stomach, where it fluttered again. She placed her hand against it, rubbing it in a soothing manner.

Carefully walking to where the truck had been parked, she saw the deep tire marks in it. _What the hell was his deal? Did he just have some insane desire to drive as fast as he…_ Clary pulled her finger back from the dirt, standing up straight with her head swimming in worry. The paper in her hand was starting to feel like water. She stormed back into the house, not caring about the damn splinter in her foot. The only thought she had running through her head was: _no._ A command of whatever he had planned, and was already carrying out. _No,_ she thought as she threw open the front door and dashed into the baby's room. _The nursery. No._

"Scott," she croaked at the bare crib and walls clean of the pictures he made with his dimpled hands. The color depictions of what his little mind saw. Clary had watched paint each and every one of them, encouraging him with kisses on the cheek and her baby voice. Now, there was nothing. Nothing except a paper tacked on the wall above his crib. When she glimpsed at what his edgy handwriting had presented for her, she began to see a pattern. This one, however was less sloppy than the last.

 _ **18:21**_

Her lower lip quivered as she held the paper against the other, squeezing them both in her hand as she swiped at her damp eyelashes. A search proved that his drawers were as empty as the crib. Along with his chest of toys. She made her way to the door, not as fast as before, but still just as desperate. When her eyes made contact with the baby powder, she prayed that he hadn't spilt it in a hurry… on his way out.

 _The baby!_ Was he okay? There was definitely a maternal instinct she had when it came to him. He'd changed her in so many ways. Being around him made her see the innocence in her surroundings. She saw the purest intentions when Jace held her, talked to her, hummed her back to sleep when she'd vomited in the early morning. She saw colorful butterflies - no longer just moths in her opinion. She saw the horizon, the colors meshing together in between sky and land. Stitching her world as one. She saw the pretty flowers he held between his chubby fingers and would think, _he sees no wrong, he doesn't see the wilting petals, wrinkled stem._ And perhaps this new vision was what made the difference between Jonathan and Jace.

"Jace…" Clary's voice was barely a whisper as she sauntered over to their bedroom. Of course, there was nothing different about the room. Everything was as it had been when she left it not a few minutes ago. The blankets were still in disarray when she had crawled out of them, the curtains blowing in the gentle breeze. Except, where she had gained a splinter, there was paper sticking out between the floorboards. A distorted sob left her burning throat as she bent down to pick it up, falling down completely once her eyes had taken in the numbers.

 _ **18:14**_

 _ **Remitte mihi, amica mea**_

She remembered when he told her about the lessons her father gave him. Clary recognized the first words, one that her father had spoken over the phone when he was talking to Jocelyn. No, they weren't: _I'll be back,_ or _don't worry._ It was a phrase well overused in the english language, one that she could barely read with the almost scribbled writing of his.

The sound of sirens, deafening and nearing, drew her attention to the window. The curtain caught some of the vehicle's flashing colors as it sped towards the cottage. Some part of her was relieved, the other was begging her to run into the trees, to _hide_. Either way, she couldn't bring herself to move from the floor, to let go of the tan papers. _He's gone, he's gone, he's gone, he's gone._ The words were burning into her brain, and it was that moment her stomach rumbled, almost pleading with her to calm down before she did something insane. They couldn't stop her when she bolted out of her room and into the small, plain bathroom that reminded her of one a greater distance away.

" _ **Next time you want to play on that little line between life and death,"**_ His words played into her ear as she tore open the wooden cabinet in search of something. A long, long time ago did the old Clary die. The one that was fearful of him. The new Clary was madly in love. Not willing to go through her days when he was somewhere else, with _someone_ else. It was too much to bear. Her hands gripped the instrument she used to shave her legs, dropping it to the floor and smashing it with a lantern Jace had hung from the ceiling. It bent the plastic, a sharp edge poking out at a dangerous angle. A few angered tears fled from her eyes as she picked up the lethal object.

" _ **Don't half-ass it, because you better hope you're dead when I find you."**_ She nodded to herself, hoping he would indeed comeback. _She needed him. She'd go back to that hell house if it meant he'd be with her. If it meant she'd see him, know where he was. She'd starve for him, be beaten black and blue until the only thing her puffy eyes saw were his golden physique. Now, she needed him to stick to his word. She needed him_ _ **back.**_

Clary took a long look at herself. Puffing out breath after breath of air, gazing into water emeralds. Fear was encased in them, red rimming the gems that Jace could never stare at long enough. She saw the razor pressed to her wrist, the determination in her grip. The whites of her knuckles as she held the object in her hand. Her ears were filled with the sound of her panting, sobbing, and swallows as she shook doubt from her head. The room _spun, spun, spun_ off of its axis until she couldn't tell what was up and down. What was right and wrong as the first few drops of crimson fell towards the tile floor.

The girl in the mirror began to change. Her hair darkening, cheeks becoming more angular and a saddened look on her face. Almost disappointment. Clary _felt_ like a disappointment in the eyes of her reflection. Or whatever it had become.

" _Look at yourself. You're not my daughter."_ The reflection scowled. Clary's eyes shimmered with escaping tears, her head shaking at what was now her mother in the mirror. Instead of the background being the bathroom, she could see the living room in a house gone but never forgotten. The laughter of a young boy reached her ears, the chuckles of an older man that had become what most would call her father.

"She's gone." Clary reasoned, loosening some pressure on the razor. Her mother shook her head, eyes sad but empty where Clary's were leaking salted water.

" _No, you destroyed her."_ Jocelyn growled. " _I don't know who you are, or who you_ _ **think**_ _you are, but you're not my Clary. That Clary wouldn't be killing herself over a boy!"_ The reflection chided. Clary felt her stomach flutter again, careful not to press the razor against it as she rubbed it. Her mother's eyes trailed down to the moving hand. " _No different from your father and I…"_ She scoffed.

"Mum…" Clary croaked. Jocelyn shook her head, eyes closing tightly as she crossed her arms in a way she did when she was scolding Clary.

" _You don't get to call me that. Not until you're the daughter I raised and love."_ Jocelyn frowned, deep shadows obvious under her dull green eyes. She screamed at the reflection, throwing the razor at the mirror where it clattered into the dingy sink. When the plastic clunked against the surface of the mirror, her mother disappeared. Clary collapsed to the floor, the tanned papers in one of her palms that was currently clenched into a fist. She held them against her chest, whimpering. _Come back, come back to me, come back to me,_ she begged to the man who was absent.

She thought that when someone's heart broke, that it was a pain that centered in their chest. _Well, she was **wrong.**_ It covered every inch of her, radiating sorrow and suffering. No amount of tears could put out the flames that destroyed her nerves. Her fingers began to shake, throb in a pain as if she'd bitten them for a few minutes and then pressed them against one another. Her thighs felt strange, tight, _stiff_ as she pulled her knees to her chest. _Her knees._ Joints, all of them brittle and stationary. Making her the closest she could be to a statue. And she understood why they always wore pained faces. Heart ache - although it wasn't _just_ her heart that pulsated in agony - would surely last until the statue she now was, crumbled into _nothing._

* * *

 **AN: And that's a wrap!**

 **Actually, no.**

 **Not even close.**

 **Okay, so after _that_ disaster, I'm quite nervous to check the reviews. Some of you guys _must_ have known this was going to happen, but I assure you the story won't end with a distraught Clary and a Maybe Baby. I'm sure that if she weren't pregnant, Jace would have realized he was preventing her from living a full life some other time. He said he would make the best of decisions... do you guys think he made the best choice for Clary? **


	20. Denial

"She got here a few hours ago?"

"Yes."

"Then why does she look… like _that_."

"Ma'am with all do respect, this is the best she's looked in those last hours. If we would've called you earlier, she'd still be screaming." The officer shivered. Through the rectangular window that let her see the girl, Maryse felt her chest tighten. There were light scratches along her wrists, dark shadows under her green eyes.

"Why was she screaming?" Maryse asked the officer. He was silent for a few seconds, then turned to face her.

"At first, we assumed it was because she was scared. You know how this situations can be: the victim isn't used to human contact…" He trailed off at Maryse's horrored expression. "Anyways, she was screaming, flailing her arms around. Then, after a while, we realized she was _fighting us off._ " He swallowed audibly. "She kept - she kept repeating something. I couldn't hear it, not until I was able to replay a recording." The officer shuddered again. His pallored face peaked Maryse's interest.

"What did she say?" She questioned. The officer looked down at his weapons belt, where Maryse's could see scratches in some of the leather holsters. _Dear God,_ she thought to herself, wondering how such a small girl could put up such a fight.

"She…" His eyes shut tight, adam's apple bobbing a few times before he began to speak again. "Lord, I thought someone was trying to soothe her when I listened to the tapes. The - Jesus, I recognized it as her voice. _He's gone, he's gone -_ she kept repeating it in the tapes. Barely a whisper." The officer's teeth chattered in his teeth as he pressed his hand against the glass to keep from falling. Maryse's wanted to say that she'd seen worse, done worse, but that would raise immediate suspicion. And she wasn't here for that.

"Do you know who took her? Did you find the guy?" She spoke once he stood tall. His forehead was beaded with sweat, neck red.

"No, no ma'am." He answered softly.

"And where was it that you found her?" Maryse continued with a greater volume. No longer a whisper and encouraging him to do the same.

"The house she was kept at belonged to an elderly man, Ragnor Fell." He replied with a hoarse tone, making Maryse believe he knew the man. "The strangest thing was, that there was baby furniture lying around. And Mr. Fell didn't have no kids. No grandbabies to say the least." The officer was confused by his own words.

"Do you think - that the baby was _hers?"_ Her voice was back to a whisper. Possibly because she was using her throat to keep down bile instead of talking loud enough.

"We won't be able to tell. She hasn't said anything… besides what I just told you." He responded quietly. "The doctors were planning on running a few tests on her, but with her thrashing about, they decided to wait, to sedate her once they got an IV to stay in her."

"To stay in her?" Maryse repeated with a questioning tone.

"She was in good health when we picked her up. After questioning her for a good portion of our work day - with no answers, might I add - we drove her to the hospital. When we called to ask how she was doing, they said she wasn't eating. Drinking. And they were worried she'd get dehydrated in this heat." The man answered.

"Can I try to talk to her?" Maryse asked. The man was hesitant to answer her. Swallowing again and adjusting the buttons of his shirt.

"I wouldn't recommend it, but this isn't what I want. If she doesn't… start doing anything soon, they're going to use more force. And - that'll just make things more difficult." He sighed, then stepped back and motioned to the hospital door that was a few paces away. Her dark eyes glinted intensely as she gave him a questioning stare. A swift nod from him and Maryse was flitting to the room entrance.

Her husband had told her to investigate. See if it was _really_ Clary. Though, Maryse knew he was desperate to find out who kidnapped her. Who took her after the supposedly _dead_ boy had taken her. With the boy dead, the Clave had practically forgotten about her now that there was no threat of them being publicly exposed for their despicable acts.

When Maryse's walked into the room, Clary's eyes slowly moved toward her. Now sparkle in them. Their emerald green was almost black, a mossy color that caused a tremor to run through Maryse. "Clary…?" There was no recognition in the girl's eyes. They had only met each other a few times, Isabelle being there for the occasions. "Clary, it's me: Maryse. I - your mother sent me." It was a lie, but Clary didn't need to know that. Something in Clary's dark eyes simmered at the mention of her mother.

"She's not my mother. She doesn't _want_ to be." Clary mumbled. Maryse took a seat in the cold plastic of the hospital chair. It made her bottom hurt, but she tried not to show discomfort. " … I couldn't be with him. I couldn't be… _with him."_ She continued on. Her dark eyes weren't focused on any aspect of the room, just staring blankly. It reminded Maryse of the girl's father, how he reacted upon learning he couldn't be with Jocelyn. _That didn't stop him from sending the Verlac to the colonies,_ Maryse thought to herself.

"Who are you talking about, dear?" Maryse asked softly, worried the girl would fly into an uncontrollable rage - like her father.

" … I don't know." Clary's voice was so soft, so quiet that Maryse was afraid to ask her to speak up. Though, her eyes became fixated on Maryse. There was awareness in them, as if she were thinking. About what, Maryse didn't know in the slightest. " … thought I knew. _We knew each other."_

"You knew him from New York. Was he a friend of yours?" Maryse tested. Clary's lips turned down in a frown, her fingers pulling on the hospital sheets. It was the first time Maryse focused on the silver lines riddling the girl's body. _Scars._

"I- no. He was a total stranger. Is a total stranger." Clary cleared her throat, breathing in and out. Long stretches of air leaving and entering her clenched teeth.

"Clary, please eat something. Before you start to starve." Maryse pleaded. Clary chuckled to herself, looking down at her thighs.

"I've gone without food… for long enough. I can last longer than you think." She said with a dark grin that slid from her face once the words were out. "He was trying to make me stronger, and I guess I am."

"You are?" Maryse asked.

"Yes… I think he was right to keep me in the basement. I wouldn't be here if… if he was still alive." Clary mumbled to herself, her fists clenching and unclenching at her sides.

"Who, dear?" Maryse asked.

" … no one."

* * *

"Okay, you should feel a small pinch. Nothing painful." The nurse assured Clary. Just as she said, there was a small pinch in her forearm. Clary tried to find something to look at while her blood was being taken. She stared at the name tag that dangled from her colorful shirt.

 **Catarina Loss**

"Why do I need my blood taken?" Clary asked the woman - _Catarina._ Catarina gave Clary a hopeful smile before answering.

"We need to see if there's… anything we should look out for. Any diseases you may have contracted while you were missing." Clary nodded at the response, feeling a pang of sorrow in her chest. When she stared up, her green eyes met the blue ones of the woman, not the golden ones she was so used to.

"What kind of diseases are you _looking_ for?" She questioned, trying her hardest not to stare as the nurse removed the needle from her arm. Catarina looked caught, unwilling to share her answer with the redhead. "Please… just tell me. No one has told me anything since I got here." Clary begged.

"Just… nothing. A routine checkup." Catarina smiled before cleaning up her materials, tucking the vile of blood in one of her many pockets. Clary frowned, not pleased with the answer. Everyone acted as if she were going to explode, lash out at someone. It didn't help the loneliness that had taken up space in her heart. "Oh! I almost forgot! There was word around the hospital that you'd be getting some visitors." She said before leaving the cold hospital room. Clary's heart began to race at just _who_ was going to see her. There was so much that she'd left behind in New York. Well, not really _left behind,_ but there were people who loved her.

And, like the nurse had told her just moments ago, a woman came in, her red hair pulled up in a careless ponytail. The instant her eyes laid on her daughter, her matching green eyes began to water, leak salty tears as she scurried along the hospital floor and embraced Clary. She smelled of soap and citrus, the two scents being forced into Clary's nose as she hugged her without a hint of ever letting go. A time ago, she'd have loved the smell. Welcomed it. Now, it reminded her of the cottage, with it's wild fruit and flowers. Of the cheap soap Jace bought for them.

"You're hair is longer," Jocelyn croaked with tearful eyes, smoothing down Clary's curls and tucking them behind her ear. She kissed her daughter's forehead, the pad of her thumb smoothing over the bags under Clary's eyes. "And your skin… glowing." She laughed during the sniffs she took to keep her nose dry. "Is it really you?" Jocelyn whispered with a burning throat.

"It's me, Mum." Her daughter responded. That was all it took.

" _Clary, Clary, Clary,"_ Jocelyn sobbed, her hands running up and down her daughter's arms. She had on a thick turtleneck that scratched the skin the hospital gown hadn't covered. Clary didn't know how to respond, how to react. Since that first night in the basement, all Clary could do was dream of her mother. She'd forgotten all but her face. The sound of her matured voice, the warmth her hold brought, the flush of her cheeks - all absent from Clary's mind. Each of them came back, crashing against Clary's head. " _I'm not letting you out of my sight,"_ Her mother sighed. Clary agreed with her mother, gripping her tightly and sobbing. Jocelyn ran her hand over Clary's tangled curls, kissing the top of her head.

She doesn't know how to tell her mother of the horrible time she spent away that also happened to be the time she truly fell in love with a man. How can she say the worst and best time of her life was spent away? That it was in the arms of the man her mother will see as an enemy?

" _Mum,"_ Clary whispered, her nose buried into the crook of her mother's neck. She was crying hard, her arms clamped around her mother in fear she'd be taken away again. " _I missed you so much."_ She croaked.

"So much," Jocelyn repeated as she rubbed her daughter's back. The hole in her heart was healing over. It still ached, but with her mother around it wasn't as easy to notice. The worry about what her mother would think, what the world would think about the love she shared with a man they deemed as evil made her feel sick. Just as sick as all those mornings… _Wait-_

The intense smell of flowers reached Clary's nose, her eyes following the trail and seeing a pair of unbearably nervous _men._

Her brother was a good foot taller, his hair wild, but not unpleasant. Now… it was sort of _cute_. His shoulders were broad and supporting muscle, rather than 'baby fat.' His dimpled chin was gone, replaced by a strong jaw line. Clary couldn't spot the softness on his stomach that his shirts often revealed. _He had lost weight,_ she noted to herself. _Stretching?_ She questioned as even his limbs were longer. As manly as he looked, she missed the boy that would paint with her. No longer was Grayson the chubby, adorable little brother that trailed after her. Here was this man that had taken his place, and she worried that he'd changed.

"Clary?" The stranger spoke across the room. She saw his sun-kissed face pallor till he was as white as the hospital blankets. Jocelyn took a step back. Where she had been guilty upon seeing her mother's face, her brother was a different story. The nausea disappeared, gone completely when he pulled her against his sturdy chest. The man she swore she saw melted at her touch and he was that little boy again. His hands gripped her tightly, some of her curls falling into his hold and being pulled. "Please don't leave again," her brother whimpered. She nodded. Her voice was caught in her throat. Tears rolled down her small face and dripped from her chin to his long sleeve shirt. Luke joined them seconds later, holding his two children and sobbing out tears of his own.

 _Luke,_ the man that picked Clary and her mother up when her father had left them, was now in pieces. His fingers hooked into her arm, pulling her tightly to him and her brother. Jocelyn kissed the cheeks of both her children.

"You didn't forget me?" Clary blurted, eyes closed and shameful.

"Forget? How could we _ever_ forget you?" Jocelyn gasped, wiping the tears from her daughter's eyes. Luke had guilt in his eyes, while Grayson remained cradled in his sister's arms, quivering. "Clarissa Adele, what are you talking about?" Her mother asked with her gentle voice that poured into Clary's ears.

"I - there was a broadcast - on the news. They said you'd stopped searching for me?" She continued. Jocelyn broke into tears, sobbing into her husband's chest. Luke held her while whispering words of comfort in her ear.

"Clary, there was no other choice. Everyone thought… everyone thought you were _gone._ With no evidence - the search was canceled." Luke explained. Grayson shivered; probably remembering the day. "How did you find out? You were allowed to watch the news?" Luke prodded.

"He let me." She answered simply, remembering the angel's beautiful face. Her parents didn't question her for more, just grateful they could hold their daughter in their arms.

" _You're so grounded,"_ Luke told his daughter while hugging her. The family laughed though no one disagreed. Not even Clary. She was okay with being in her old room for a while. Catching up with the painting she'd missed out on over the past year. A commotion outside the room gathered their attention.

" _Sir, only family can go in there-"_ A doctor was saying. She could hear scuffling, thinking back to the cold night when she almost lost Jace. But Jace was gone now. His own choice. Somewhere there was an infuriated girl, though she was lost to the heartache and reunion on the Graymark's. She'd come around, though.

" _I need to see her!"_ The voice was closer, not just physically. She recognized it, yet couldn't put a face to the masculine tone. The room door flew open, an out of breath man with doctors at his feet groaning in pain. Brown eyes lock with hers, dry for one moment and then wet the next. Clary's breath hitches in her throat, words lost as she takes in his tired face, parted lips as he breaths in the stiff hospital air while she struggles to take a gasp herself. The doctors don't make a move as if they too want to see her reaction. If she'll scream, cry, or react coldly. Sebastian as well.

She doesn't know either.

"Clary?" He begins, feet moving slowly. Unsure if she still wants him. Clary doesn't stop him. Doesn't _want_ to. She missed him. Those nights in the cottage when Jace had fallen asleep, when the baby was babbling to himself. She'd find herself thinking about him. Worrying if he'd forgotten about her like the rest of her family.

"Sebastian," she reponds. Trying to sound even but her voice cracking at the end of his name. He hears it and slowly approaches to her side, her family muttering something about giving them some space despite having just reunited with her minutes ago. Warm hands, calloused hands, strong hands - they cup her chin. Bring her eyes up to gaze at his damp lashes, chapped lips, and blazing brown orbs. His breath slides down her ivory skin and heat her ears. So badly does she want to close her eyelids and take in the sensory overload. To just _feel_ him. " _Sebastian,"_ Clary sighs.

" _Clary,"_ he responds back. His breath is closer, his hands ever present and cradling the nape of her neck as he nears. Her hands are limp at her sides. Giving him control. Worried that he'll leave her. That she'll leave him because of her rampant emotions. Right now, she desperately needs to feel _something, someone, anything._ Just _warmth._ To become her mother's daughter again. Be the Clary they all knew and loved. Know and Love.

" _Sebastian,"_ she breaths out as if it's the only word she knows. She misses this. This belonging to someone. Leaving them to decide where her future lies instead of her because she _so afraid_ of what her heart wants. That it's in the back of Jace's truck as he travels the country. That he'll always have it with him. Never giving it back because he's selfish. Always was.

Something brushes against her lips, she knows what it is. Knows who it is as she adds pressure back, never fully giving in. Waiting for his final push back where she can melt into _his_ Clary. Not the one who's desperately trying to remain in control. _I'm not that girl, I'm not that girl, not that crazy girl, that's not me,_ she insists as Sebastian's hand cradle her head ever so close to his. When she recounts all the time Jace held her to him, she forces herself to think of Jonathan and his brutal fists. Bringing pain to associate with Jace's face, his memory.

" _Clary,"_ he says before his lips seal over hers. Burnout, eradicate, and dissolve the rebel inside her. But the only way he is able to touch her is because she's pleading with her imagination, forcing her to believe it's the golden boy with his damaged heart and scarred body.

* * *

 **AN:** **Any of you guys know that Foreigner son _I Want To Know What Love Is,_ because that's what I imagine playing as Clebastian reunites. Except, Clary wants to forget the pain Jace brought her and remember how her boyfriend loved her. Hoping she'll grow to love him.**

 **Also, I think she's beginning to realize why Jace was asking her about her period. Even Jocelyn noticed a change in her. Either way, we'll find out when the nurse brings back her test results.**

 **Love it, hate it? Please review and tell me what you think!**


	21. Reasons For Living

"Oh! Am I interrupting something?" A nurse - Catarina - squeaked as she entered the room. Sebastian brushes his lips against Clary's before pulling back with a look of relief. Fearing that their connection was lost over the months apart. The smell of - sanitizer? It flies off of Sebastian and hits her square in the face. It made nausea travel up her stomach, her face contorting in pain.

She noticed Catarina sported a conflicted expression, her teeth sinking into lower lips as she held a clipboard in her tan hands. Clary's heart rate soared as she remembered the blood being taken from her forearm. Her blood tests now on paper. Waiting to be announced.

"No, come in." Sebastian motioned. Clary, though, wanted to send the nurse away. Pretend that she's as healthy as can be. Forget about the sickness that has been plaguing her for God knows how long. Catarina stares at Sebastian for a few seconds, her lower lip continued to be gnawed on by her white teeth.

"Clarissa, I've gotten the results of your bloodwork." Catarina announced, holding the clipboard to her chest as if could read it if he leaned in close enough. Sebastian faced Clary, his warm, soft hands - not calloused like Jace's - patting her shin though the scratchy hospital blankets

"Is it bad?" Clary asked Catarina who was about to rip off the lower half of her mouth with the constant chewing. The nurse opened her mouth, closing it, opening it again, and then finally setting the clipboard on the tray made for holding food. Clary eyed the tests, vision be damned as she couldn't decipher the words. Sebastian intertwined his and Clary's fingers, occasionally kissing the knuckle.

"I know… you haven't told anyone what happened." She began, pacing around the room with her fingers locked in front of her chest. _Forward, turn, forward, turn,_ and then stopping when Clary hadn't answered her. Sebastian eyes fell to the floor, not wanting to hear about her suffering. "You've been gone for almost a year? Since late june?" Catarina asked and Clary agreed. The hospital calender read that it was nearing the end of May. "Tell me, what happened during the month of January?" She closed her eyes as she commanded. Breathing in through her nose and out through her mouth. Sebastian's eyes snapped to Clary, their brown iris' cold with confusion.

Clary didn't know what the nurse was talking about. Had she contracted something from the freezing basement? Consumed spoiled food? "I… there weren't any calendars in the house." She responded. Catarina nodded, pressing her thumbs together as her lips parted.

"Let me - when it was cold, winter? Yes? Were there any events that… _stuck out_?" She asked more clearly. The redhead didn't know how kissing someone could be something to mark down - unless Jace had some sort of disease. _Winter,_ she thought to herself. _Cold basements, cold beers, warm blankets -_ "Ms. Fairchild, as much as I don't _want_ to ask this question, but… while you were held captive… did the assaults stop at physical?" The pity that shined in the nurse's brown eyes confused Clary. She supposed that Jonathan _was_ emotionally abusive as well.

"No." Clary answered. Sebastian froze, turning to her with eyes now watery. "But what does that have to do with my test results?" She continued. Catarina sucked in a breath of chilled hospital air. Her eyelids lowering in remorse as she picked up the clipboard.

"Ms. Fairchild… the reason I ask this is because… you're pregnant." Everyone was silent in the following seconds.

" _What?!"_

The silence was ruined.

"Mr. Verlac, perhaps you don't want to be here while I give Ms. Fairchild her options-" She was swiftly cut off by Sebastian.

" _Options?_ Can't you just… get that _thing_ out of her?!" He barked, standing up from the bed to stare her down. His hands were fisted at his sides, the knuckles white. She saw his eyes dart around the room, Sebastian struggling against impulses that told him to take his frustrations out on the many breakable objections that surrounded them. Clary's heart had practically stopped beating, and then started at an uneven, rapid pace.

"Need I remind you that it's _May."_ Catarina began. "Even if she wanted to-"

"Why the hell would she keep a rapist's baby?" Sebastian hissed, his hand gripping the railing of the hospital bed.

"Even if she _wanted_ to, Ms. Fairchild is…" Her voice drifted off as she dug her hand into the pockets of her white coat, the clipboard placed back on the tray. Clary still couldn't believe what she had revealed, while Sebastian was already dealing with his shock. _Pregnant… she was pregnant._

"Is _what?"_ He growled after her hesitation.

"She's too far in the pregnancy for it to be terminated." That brought Clary back to reality. " _ **The last time we had sex, you got your period, right?"**_ She thought about what Jace asked her as Catarina silently worried if Clary was going to have a nervous breakdown. _Terminated?_ She thought to herself, pulling back the hospital blankets and swinging her legs off the electronic bed. Her feet touched the cold floor as she scrambled to the bathroom, her hand holding her mouth, still holding it when she shut the door behind her and pressed her back against one of its white walls. _Breath, breath,_ she instructed as she stared at herself in the mirror that hovered over the sink. _Breath,_ Clary pleaded with herself as her hand remained over her damp lips, throat stinging with raging emotions.

" _ **No… I was just… forget it."**_ Her knees gave out, back rolling down the wall until her thighs hit the bathroom floor. The scene being close to when she debated killing herself. And, as her eyes lazily skimmed to the bathroom mirror, seeing nothing but white wall, her hand mindlessly covered over her stomach.

 _Breath,_ Clary commanded silently as her eyes fluttered closed. _**She saw Scott messing around in Jace's golden waves - that were similar to his honey curls - with one hand, while the other held up a bottle he was currently sucking on. If it weren't for his brown eyes and the different angles of his face, Clary would have assumed they were father and son.**_

Almost a year ago; there was nothing for her to live for. Sure, she was happy. Floating in the existence of millions of other New Yorkers. Never having that anchor, to _want_ to fight for each breath that she inhaled and then exhaled. She had no reason when she'd been tied to a basement floor, fed only portions of meals. She had family, but _everyone_ had family. Born into something she felt only a natural instinct to love. It was so simple to say that one could love their parents, little brother, and friends. But was that any reason to _stay?_ They'd mourn on, turn their attention back towards each other after a certain amount of time.

And then - she found it. That _reason_ for living. It was masked by scarred skin and a broken heart. Slowly, carefully, he revealed the damage to her. Showed her the ache in his chest that he lived with on a daily basis. No, she hadn't suffered anywhere _near_ as much pain as he had. Wouldn't dream of it. If dream was what one would call it when in fact _it_ was a nightmare. She then showed him her empty heart, the selfish one that beat without purpose. While the situation could have been better - she found her reason for living. And she thought he found his as well.

If she couldn't have been more selfish, she found another. And where she had been reluctant to accept the first one, there was no other choice but to… but to receive it. Clary had heard stories of mothers willing to do just about anything for their children. Would burn down the world if the child desired such a thing. It sounded insane. She figured that a mother's love was natural. That once they felt the first gentle flutters of their child, that their heartbeat gained tempo. That the world slowly but surely was right again. Clary was wrong. She could have easily declared this child a weight on her responsibility. Something to forcefully domesticate her wild life. A reminder of the year she felt loved and abandoned all at once.

But Clary didn't. Couldn't. _Wouldn't._

How could she hate something that reminded her of warm arms and wild flowers? Of cold windows and itchy mittens? The longer she was separated from Jace, Clary had begged to have a part of him. And - and now that she _did_ have a part of him, who was she to scorn the child? The only link she had to her reason for living? Would she be able to place her hand on her stomach and say _yes, my baby. My pretty baby,_ without regrets? Clary began to imagine a beautiful child, cooing up at her from their crib, dimpled hands and rounded cheeks. Eyes golden, of course. Yes, he or she would be absolutely _breath taking._

And then she wondered what it was like to _lose_ that child. Their pretty eyes leaking tears as they were ripped from her cradling arms. Just the thought of going through that made her chest ache just as it did when she learned Jace had abandoned her. The man that swore up and down that he'd sell his soul if she wished - the man that took on the responsibilities of a baby because he'd hate himself for choosing the alternative.

Did this mean she loved the baby? Not entirely. _But,_ never would she blame it. She couldn't point a finger at it and say that _it_ was the cause of his or hers father's departure.

Though she entertained the thought of Jace humming to their child, telling it stories as he did with Scott, would he have wanted to? Was this his reason for _leaving_ and not living? Clary thought back to when he'd asked about the consummation of their relationship. His tan face being pallored when he reminded her of her monthly cycle. _No,_ she internally gasped. _He wouldn't… why?_ Where she had begun to imagine a smiling baby, was he lost in the thought of paternal responsibility? He was such a quick thinker, so of _course_ he would have been worried! Drowning in the consideration of dragging a newborn along with their journeys! But if he _did_ know, why didn't he tell her?

" _ **Because I knew what it felt like. I knew what you were feeling, and though I wasn't completely courteous to you, I would have never hurt you. I wouldn't wish my upbringing on anyone, and if my decisions could make the difference, then I would make the best of them."**_ Clary considered for a moment, replaying his words in her head. Did he… really think that _this_ was the best decision for her? To cause her such pain, such grief. All inflicted upon by his overprotectiveness. Truly, there wasn't much that could make Jace leave Clary. Her hands skimmed down, cupping the bump curiously. _All because of you,_ she thought towards it. The silent words carried no malice. She couldn't bring herself to be angry at the baby. It had no say in Jace's decision, and neither did she. He'd taken it upon himself to change the course of their child's life. To permanently remove himself.

"We're fine." Clary spoke softly to the growing life. Promising that - whether alone or surrounded by love - that they were _fine_. There was a small flutter from within, and she wanted to believe that it was the baby's response. When the bathroom door opened up and in walked Sebastian, Clary hoped her presumption was right. _We'll be fine,_ she amended, taking her hands off her stomach.

"Clary, I'm so sorry," Sebastian said as he helped her up. _What did he have anything to be sorry for,_ she wondered as he guided her back to the room. Catarina was gone - for now. Probably giving them some space to talk about the situation. "I want you to know that… that I'm not angry - _with you."_ He added after a second thought. His eyes lowered to her stomach that she quickly covered with her forearms as if he could do something to interrupt the pregnancy. "The nurse told me about adoption. You wouldn't have to see it again-" She gasped at him, scrambling backward on the bed till her head met its pillows, hand still on her abdomen.

"What makes you think I wouldn't want to see my child?" Clary snapped.

"Clary, it's not a child! _Children_ are created out of love. _Monsters_ are created from terror and acts of violence!" He scolded her. Sebastian looked down at the white hospital sheets. "And sometimes mistakes."

"He's not a mistake!" Clary growled, holding her stomach protectively. "I loved him!" She shouted. _Jace, Jace, Jace,_ she repeated to herself, thinking of his sparkling eyes and warm hold. _She loved him, she loved him,_ Clary assured herself. She wasn't… _sick_.

"You didn't _love_ that bastard! You were - you were sick!" Sebastian countered, his face so close to hers as they yelled. _We're fine, we're fine,_ she reminded her abdomen as Sebastian moved to touch her.

"I - I won't give it up." She told him finally. He let out a sigh, hand dropping before he stood up.

"You may _think_ you're making a good decision. Doing the right thing, but more sooner than later, you're going to be responsible for another life. And both of you will be _miserable._ You for keeping him, a constant reminder, and _it_ for feeling unloved." Sebastian warned. Clary looked up at him, wondering when he had become this cold man. The old Sebastian would have supported her, not pressure her into a closed adoption. "And then it will hate you, probably for the rest of its life. It'll constantly be wondering what love feels like, why other children are happier than _it._ "

"No! I won't treat him like that." Clary argued.

"And then you'll realize I was right all along!" Sebastian countered with a high volume, making her shake as a shadow crossed his face. Clary moved her hands, wanting to tell him to step back. His fingers gripped her forearm, hand dangerously close to her stomach before he shoved her back against the bed. His eyes daring her to make another move against him. She thought about someone taking her baby away and felt a maternal instinct to protect her stomach, cringing and using her free arm to wrap around it.

Clary thought that killing Jonathan would have removed him from her life, but she was _wrong._ He was right in front of her, ready to do whatever means necessary to keep her. As if he realized how close he was to her, the fear in her eyes as she glanced at his tightened fists, he calmed down. "Clary-"

"Get out." She whispered, holding her released arm and feeling the skin throb underneath her touch. What she previously thought was sanitizer was now the all too familiar stench of liquor. That the red tint of his eyes weren't because he was crying, but due to heavy drinking. _They always fought when he was drunk._ One of the reasons she asked him not to come to Simon's performance was because he was too jealous for his own good. Towards his own _friend._

"I didn't mean to-"

"Get out, before I have security come in." She said with watery eyes. He stared at her for a few seconds that felt more like hours before standing up straight. Clary let out a sigh, looking at her arm and remembering Jonathan. _We're fine,_ she thought back to her stomach, feeling it flutter in agreement. Sebastian placed his hands behind his back, showing he wouldn't reach to touch her again.

"Promise me that you won't regret it." He whispered. This shocked her, as she expected to hear him lash out as he had been doing for the past few minutes.

"What?" Clary questioned.

"Promise me that… that you want it. That when the time comes to take responsibility, you won't regret your decision. Promise me that you want to keep it." Sebastian clarified, slowly leaning in till his face was even with hers as she sat up in bed. Her stomach fluttered, reassuring her of her decision.

"I want him." She responded sternly. Her voice never wavering as she kept her hands on her stomach. "More than anything." Clary added. Sebastian was closer, nose a few inches away as he reached out for her arm, picking it up and kissing the skin he made tender. She watched him, unsure of how to respond. His touch… it felt good. In a familiar way. Something she could always assure herself that was _real._ That it would be there whenever she needed it. Unlike… _him._

"I'm sorry." He apologized against her damp skin. "For this, not for what I said. I meant every word." He clarified, gazing up at Clary with a challenging gaze. Waiting for her to deny him. Where before she saw Jonathan, now she saw the other boy in his tender stare. And she _couldn't_ deny that boy. Clary closed her eyes, feeling his golden waves as she weaved through his hair with her hand. His tan skin as she pressed her palm to his cheek, bringing him close.

"I forgive you," Clary sighed, hoping that he could hear her.

* * *

"Now, fair warning, this will be cold." The female doctor warned as she applied a gel to Clary's abdomen. The redhead hissed when the substance touched her skin, feeling like ice rolling off of her. Sebastian held one of her hands while the other rested on her chest. There was a small screen, reminding her of Simon's kitchen Tv. The doctor - Charlotte - said that they'd be able to see the baby on it. Sebastian was insistent on coming with her to the ultrasound, something she was grateful for after the scene with her mother. Clary couldn't get Jocelyn's sobbing out of her ear. _The way she collapsed in Luke's arms…_ Grayson was shocked, but stood by his sister's side, which made their mother cry _harder._ Sebastian, although uncomfortable, said that it was Clary's decision and that it wasn't in their place to force her out of it. Although, the tone of his voice told her that he was doubtful of her choice.

Charlotte was taking a few measurments, her eyes trained on the monitor while Sebastian stared at Clary. Everyone was quiet, until the woman turned the television-like machine to face the… no, Clary wouldn't call them a couple. Sebastian probably wouldn't want to be tied down by a woman pregnant by a man he deemed his enemy. Clary figured that the first time she saw her child, that she'd see a small - flickering speck on the thick screen. _Not an actual baby_

"And here he is!" Charlotte said in her cheery tone, pointing at the baby, outlining its small hands and feet, commenting on the nose and saying he had Clary's features. She felt her eyes sting with tears as she observed the baby sucking its thumb, moving its position to face the screen. _Oh, Jace,_ she wanted to cry as she gazed at full lips and the shape of the baby's face. Though, the doctor was right, it _did_ look like Clary.

"Wait - he?" Sebastian asked. Charlotte bit her lip.

"Well, no. I was just saying that - but if you want I could tell you the sex?" Her eyes landed on Clary, their brown orbs waiting for a reply. This would be the time when the woman asked the father if he wanted to know what they were having. Except, it wasn't Sebastian's child, and the father was far, _far_ away. Was this what Jocelyn had gone through when she was pregnant with Clary?

"Yes." She choked out, biting the inside of her cheek as Charlotte took a quick glance at the screen.

"Seeing as you're around… twenty weeks - the baby would have already formed male genitalia if it were a boy…" A smile touched the doctor's face. Sebastian let out a sigh, as if in _relief_ while Clary fought back a wave of tears. She stared at the machine. _I'm not alone, I'm not alone,_ she repeated to herself. "Congratulations, it's a girl!" Charlotte announced, nearly dropping the wand as she threw her hands in the air. "Oh, I just love announcing these things." She said to herself as Clary felt her cheeks dampen.

"A girl." Clary repeated silently. Sebastian nodded, along with Charlotte. "When is the due date?"

"Early October. The fifth or sixth. But few women actually deliver on their due date. I suggest you start thinking of names soon considering you're halfway through the pregnancy... " She recommended. Clary tuned her out, staring at her _daughter_ as she moved around, curling in on herself as she sucked her thumb. _We're fine,_ she smiled at the screen.

"And she's healthy? Nothing's wrong with her?" Clary worried while Sebastian was taking down notes on his cell phone. Charlotte shook her head.

"Being that you _haven't_ taken any vitamins, you should start taking prenatals as soon as possible to ensure your baby gets all the nutrients she needs. And, forgive me for intruding, but you situation… it would be best to stay as stress free as possible." The woman responded. Sebastian set down his phone.

"What do you mean?" He questioned.

"Well - being as it was a national case… the publicity alone just from her return. And once people find out that she's pregnant-" Charlotte shook her head. "While a miscarriage is unlikely at this point in the pregnancy, stress can lead to multiple complications. Could endanger the health of both Clarissa and her daughter."

"Can't we keep it a secret?" He groaned.

"Unlikely. As of now, people are just learning that she's not dead. And she'll be showing very, very soon. The fact that she isn't now is astounding." Charlotte responded. Sebastian held Clary's hand, letting his thumb rub her knuckles as he continued to talk to the doctor. If people found out… did that mean Jace would? Clary hoped, more or less _prayed_ that he'd return to her. But some part of her knew that he wouldn't be so stupid as to do so. _Guess it's just you and me,_ she thought to her abdomen. Feeling that familiar flutter. "Any questions, Clarissa?"

"Uh, are there things I should look out for?" She stammered.

"Besides bleeding - not to be mistaken with spotting - any cramping, decrease in activity, I'm sure you'll be fine. Just stay away from any alcohol consumption, smoking, high-stress situations and you're baby should be relatively healthy." The woman answered.

"Relatively?" Sebastian asked for her.

"You'd have to go to appointments in a hospital that's your area, to make sure the baby is doing alright. Make sure their aren't complications such as breaching, preeclampsia..." She continued on, naming many things that could happen in the next four months. "But you're in good healthy, the baby is in good health! You'll both be fine." Charlotte assured once she took in Sebastian's horror struck face and Clary's deathly pale complexion. _We'll be fine,_ Clary repeated to her daughter.

"The baby's father, what if he had some sort of disease and it was hereditary! What if..." Sebastian panicked, clamping down on Clary's arm for support. It was almost funny how was showing more concern than Clary. Almost. Inside, she was holding a silent conversation with her daughter, begging her to be okay.

"When you get back to New York, the doctors there will have tests run to make sure she's okay, to settle yours and Clarissa's mind." Charlotte assured. Sebastian didn't buy it, continuing to ask her questions while she shut off the machine, gave Clary a napkin to clean up, and then returned to hand them a picture of the unborn baby. Clary was sure she saw Charlotte roll her eyes a few times, and Sebastian countdown from ten while they walked out of the room.

"I thought you didn't like her?" Clary asked him, gesturing to her barely there stomach.

"I'm not letting you out of my sight so this is something I'll have to accept. And, now that it- the baby, is going to be in my - _our -_ life, of course I'm going to ask a few questions-"

"A _few_?" Clary laughed. He nudged her shoulder, wrapping his arm around her when her face fell. "Do you think my mother will come around? It _is_ her first grandchild." She asked him.

"Yes, but the child's father is where she has trouble coming to terms." Sebastian reasoned as he opened her room door for her. Clary fished her hands into the pocket of his jacket, taking out the small photo. "You still sure about this? Wanting to keep her?" He asked Clary.

"Yes." Clary answered, staring at her daughter as she sucked her thumb in the picture. "More than anything."

* * *

 **AN: It's official, she's pregnant, though how will the public respond to this? Jocelyn was clearly upset by this and her decision to keep the baby. Sebastian accepted it because he spent so long without Clary that he wouldn't leave her. Then there's the matter of Jace... I don't have any comments as of right now other than he thought he was making a good decision. Which, could have been handled better than the way he went about it.**

 **Tell me what you guys think in the reviews and I'll get back to you with another chapter!**


	22. Missing Boy

"We're here." Sebastian said from the driver's seat. Clary lifted her head from the window, seeing a multitude of cameras pointed at her. And then, police. They were shooing the press away, waving their hands and allowing Sebastian to drive into the parking lot of his apartment. They flew and driven here and not one call from her mother. Grayson called, Luke called, but not Jocelyn. Was she so upset that her daughter wasn't giving up this baby? _Baby…_ she shook her head, wondering what to do. She'd come to realize that some time during her ultrasound that she loved her daughter, but that didn't diminish the fear of being a single mother. How would she ever live in peace when the media would mark her as the woman carrying the child of her captor? She wasn't allowed to tell what happened to Jace, he told her that it would cause trouble.

Once parking and exiting his car, Sebastian wrapped one of his arms around one of her shoulders, keeping her warm despite the weather being moderate. Clary leaned her head into his hold, taking deep breaths as he walked her into the back entrance of his apartment. She felt stubble grab at her hair. Strange, because the man she knew would keep a relatively smooth appearance. He had changed over the course of this grueling year. Of course he had changed! But… something about him was unstable. That under his stern appearance was a trembling figure in desperate need of assurance.

He unlocked the back door. The cold air of his apartment hit her flushed cheeks. Her eyes danced around the kitchen. There were no dishes in his sink, though there were scratched in the west wall. She'd seen scratches like those at bars - when people _threw_ their drinks. _Dear God,_ she grimaced. The smell of cologne and liquor hit her nose and she forced down bile.

Someone nudged her.

 _Let's just get through the night,_ Clary communicated to her daughter. Her stomach eased enough for her to successfully walk into his living room. The furniture was the same. Maybe a new couch, but the room was spotless. Sebastian did have the habit of being restless with his mind was occupied. She saw his shining floor, the slick seats of his sofas. Dust had yet to collect on the coffee table. After the odors of Pinesol and mint, she recognized the last scent.

"Have you been smoking?" She asked him as he shucked off his blazer, placing it on the counter. He lowered his head, pinching the bridge of his nose before dark eyes met hers with guilt. When they were children, he refused to fall into the habit of his father. And… as she turned and faced his balcony, she saw an ashtray placed on an end table. Her eyes watered. Her Sebastian was gone. And his Clary was gone. "Why?" She choked out.

"Why?" Sebastian repeated with an astounded expression. She nodded. "Because you were my _everything,_ and you disappeared! You were my addiction, my sweet, sweet drug and I needed to find something relatively close to you before I lost my goddamn mind!" He cried out across the room, throwing his hands up into the crisp air. "But your back now." Sebastian added softly. Taking a few hesitant steps to face her. She nodded again.

"I'm back now." Clary agreed as his long fingers skimmed up her forearms. She willed herself to fall into the touch. To love him as strongly as he loved her currently. His head lowered, nose nudging her chin up. Her green eyes nervously took in the tired shadows of his face. The parting of his smooth lips. The obsidian stubble that scattered across the lower half of his face. "I'm back now." She whispered.

"And you're not leaving." Sebastian continued. His eyelids were low and heavy. As if he were on the verge of falling into a deep slumber. This was the man she had loved almost a year ago. And he still loved her. So why, _why_ was her heart thudding regularly. Why wasn't it beating erratically like it did when Jace burned a path of kisses across her skin? When he simply touched her with his golden fingertips? When her eyes met his amber pools? She owed it to Sebastian to want this. It was all she could do for the emotional turmoil her absence had put him through.

"And I'm not leaving." She repeated monotonously. He was transfixed on her collarbones, tracing the groove of them with his index finger. Her skin prickled. _Finally, a reaction,_ she thought in relief. His ragged breath hit her cheek. Soft and gentle; he lowered his hand to the hem of her shirt. This time her _stomach_ began to beat against her skin. Not her heart. _Thump, thump, thump._ What was _happening_ to her? Clary closed her eyes, ignoring the vibrations that roamed her abdomen while her shirt lifted. Sebastian dropped to his knees, kissing her hipbone, navel, and finally the miniscule bump that was only to grow in the coming weeks.

"You're beautiful." He commented against the damp skin. Fingers working on the buttons of her jeans. It had been a while since someone had touched her. Since someone was interested in acquainting themselves with her most sensitive parts. Clary let out a sigh, weaving her fingers into the dark locks of his hair as he slipped her pants down. After doing so, he stared up at her, his eyes glinting when he lifted himself to stand tall. She stared back, shrugging as if to say _whatever you want._ Though, her heart still refused to get excited. Sebastian brought his hands back to her shirt, slowing peeling it from her torso. Clary raised her hands and felt comfort in the moment where cotton passed over her face. _If she could just keep her eyes close this wouldn't be so hard,_ she thought as her shirt hit the floor. He lowered himself again, only to press his lips softly to her neck. Sucking gently. Her fingers returned to his hair as he did so.

She watched as he tore his own shirt from his body, her mind scrambled as he messed with the buckle of his belt and the buttons of his jeans. Her skin was getting cold, colder the longer he wasn't touching her. Clary stepped forward, pressing her cheek to his chest and being content with the warmth his body offered. She remembered him. Remembered that comfort he brought her, but couldn't remember much else. Things between them were complicated. At least while they were dating. Clary recalled a time where she saw him and Simon as equals. And then… then he wanted _more._ Back then she didn't see why she couldn't be with a boy who loved her, adored her. Now she wondered if she was conflicted. Now, as his fingers journeyed to her navel, dipping between her boyshort underwear.

Clary lifted her cheek from his warm skin and gazed up at him. Seeing the lazy stare of his eyes. Her sucking in a breath of crisp air as he touched her. He removed his hand and walked them back to the leather couch that a blanket had been tossed onto. Pushing her to lie back on it. Covering his body with hers before he began to plant gentle kisses across her skin. She was breathing evenly, still not sure if she was doing this for herself or for him as he made her gasp a few times. When it came time for him to pull his boxers down, he paused.

"I just want to feel you." He explained. "I just want… to feel you." He repeated again, panting.

"I'm going to be here when you wake up. I'm not going anywhere." Clary soothed as his eyes began to shimmer with strong emotions. He was about to say something when his voice caught in his throat. A hoarse squeak leaving his mouth before the salty pools in his eyes began to leak slowly down his cheeks. They reflected the living room lights. Almost golden. And instantly, her heart was beating fast again.

"I thought I'd never see you again," he croaked as he kissed the ivory of her neck. She imagined Jace, wondering what he was going through. Did he miss her? Or was she just in denial that he no longer wanted her. That she wasn't right for him. Not anymore. "I thought… I thought you were - you were gone forever. That I'd never get to do _this_ ," his fingers trailed back to her underwear, rubbing her through the thin fabric and causing a sigh to leave her chapped lips. He rocked his pelvis into her thigh, a groan escaping his mouth and spreading out across her chest. Tears sparkled in her eyes as she imagined Jace touching her. Worshiping her.

"I miss you so much," she said to _him._ Sebastian nodded, his hair caressing her chin as he continued the push and pull of his hips. "And I need you so _badly_." Clary panted out, hoping that _he_ would hear her. Sebastian stopped his movements, sliding her down the couch to where she was level with his face. Clary stared back at him evenly. The wanting gone and emptiness aching in her chest. Tears pooled into the corners of her eyes and he kissed them away. She hated herself for how her heart was refusing to thump faster. Refusing to look at him and melt with adoration.

Where her mind would scold her when she was with Jace, her heart scolded her for being with Sebastian. Clary wished she could switch the two feelings. She wanted to _want_ him. Need him. Her mind assured her that this was the right choice. But her heart refused to beat faster. Angered that she was trying to bury her feelings for Jace. That she dared to get over him.

"Don't cry," he soothed, kissing her flushed cheeks. He rolled off to the side of her, and arm snaking around Clary's stomach as he held her. "You'll never have to live without me again." He vowed from behind.

And, for a reason she was scared to admit, this made her cry harder.

* * *

Isabelle was nervous as Simon knocked on the back door to Sebastian's apartment. Guilt was lodged in her chest. _This was all her fault,_ she thought to herself. If Clary knew it was Isabelle that should have protected her, that should have prevented this _all_ from happening, she'd be enraged. Simon would never look at her again. And Sebastian… well, Sebastian already knew it was her fault and all it did was fuel the resentment he held towards her. Her parents were disappointed for a while, Alec assured her that people made mistakes. Aline hated Isabelle for hurting her cousin. Maybe it wasn't such a bad thing if Clary hated her as well. Isabelle didn't deserve to be in her good graces.

When Sebastian let them in, he instructed them to be gentle. To think before squeezing the life out of his girlfriend. Simon nodded eagerly, pulling her into the apartment with Magnus and Alec hot on their trail. Isabelle took rapid breaths as they passed the kitchen and entered the living room. She released Simon the instant their eyes landed on the redhead. Her boyfriend darted to his friend's side, doing the exact opposite of what Sebastian asked, but Clary didn't mind. Isabelle watched her hands grasp Simon's cheeks, her green eyes searching the features of his face to see if he'd changed. Simon had his hands on her shoulder, holding her still and doing the same.

"You look like a man," Clary laughed through her tears. Simon nodded and pulled her against his chest. "And you're taller!" She continued. Sebastian walked to Isabelle's side, leaning his his back against a scratched wall. Isabelle remembered what Aline had mentioned of an 'incident' with Sebastian.

"Go ahead, say it," she hissed at him.

"Say what?" Her half brother responded. She continued to watch Clary and Simon tearfully reunite. "Look, Isabelle, I know… I know I said some pretty awful things. And I know I blamed you, but - Clary's back. I'm not angry. She's alive." He revealed. She turned to the only one of her siblings that shared her dark eyes and tough demeanor. They were so alike, and yet different in most ways.

"Is she really…?" Isabelle couldn't get the words out of her mouth. What Jocelyn had tearfully admitted was something that shocked all of the Lightwood's. Except Sebastian, who had been with Clary when she heard the news. Simon had gotten sick over the thought of one of his best friends being raped. Magnus wept for Clary. There were no words of their time that could describe Isabelle's self loathing. If she had _just_ watched Clary, her friend wouldn't be carrying the child of a monster. That night, she drank and _drank_ until the floor became the ceiling and people were creatures. Until the light of a bulb burned her eyes with an indisputable pain.

"Yeah." Sebastian finished. Isabelle let out a puff of air, watching Magnus and Alec hug Clary and her brother's boyfriend shed tears as he commented on what the redhead was wearing. Clary had yet to notice that Isabelle was talking to Sebastian, while in the meantime hearing of the newest addition to the Lightwood family as Alec took out his phone and showed her a picture of Rebecca.

"Are you okay?" Isabelle asked him. "You're not… angry with her for not wanting to give it up?" Sebastian slowly shook his head at her questioned.

"I thought that it would just be a weight on her recovery. But… Clary loves her." Isabelle raised her eyes, wondering if he just used to pronoun for the heck of it, or if Clary was having a girl. "If this baby distracts her from thinking of that _monster,_ then how could I possibly hate it? Let alone be angry at her for wanting to keep her daughter." Sebastian answered.

"You sure that's not the only reason you wanted her to give the baby up?" Isabelle questioned warily, knowing that his childhood was a rough subject for him. From the lack of his baby photos and school pictures, she had to wonder if his mother loved him as Maryse did to Alec and her. And to her late brother Max.

"My mother kept me for selfish reasons. She wanted to get back at your father." He shook his head with a painful grimace on his face. "My adoptive father didn't know that I wasn't his… that I was the illegitimate child of his coworker." This was the part where the story got gruesome. This was the part that _everyone_ knew about. "When the police told me why he killed himself - after killing _her,_ I hated my true father. Wherever he was. My aunt Elodie was scared for me, she said that hatred would ruin me. And Aline - Jesus. I owe her so much for enduring my backlashes." His voice was tight and pained as he talked about his cousin. "Maybe I was a little rough with you guys too." Sebastian admitted.

"Besides punching our father in the face?" She teased.

"Yes, besides that. But Clary and Simon, they _saved_ me. They kept the hatred from consuming me entirely. I felt like it was my existence that eventually led to my parents' death. I hated myself most of all. Even more than I felt towards Robert." Sebastian admitted.

"What's the point in telling me this?" Isabelle questioned.

"Because I don't want you to destroy yourself." Sebastian answered. "I know how I blamed you. But you _have_ to realize that this wasn't your fault. People make mistakes, people are mistakes, yet you have to pick yourself up each time. If you let that hatred consume you - burn you to bits - then you'll turn out a monster. And the only one who deserves to be called a monster is that man buried six feet under."

"Isabelle?" She turned her gaze away see green eyes staring in her direction. Sebastian nudged her forward, urging her to make peace with herself. Isabelle hesitantly took a few steps in the direction of the living room couch. Her heart was in her throat as she approached Clary. When she was a few feet away from her, the redhead bounded off the couch and embraced her friend with thin arms. Isabelle was tense for a few moments, breathing through the space between her separated jaws. She was finally able to understand what Sebastian meant when he said Clary and Simon saved him. She understood it clearly when she broke down in the girl's arms and released tears she had forced down over the past year.

* * *

 _She had crept into the house, taking notice to the scuffling inside the living room. Her sneakers shuffled along the carpet. Clary could hear_ his _voice over the panting of the other boy. Her heart beating so fast that she couldn't say what was one beat from another. It was a constant vibrate in her chest. She was letting out short uneven breaths as she was desperately searching the room for something, anything to…_

" _Look at me," Jonathan commanded sternly. At first Clary thought she had been discovered, feeling her stomach flutter in unbearable anxiety. She pressed a hand to it, hoping that it would settle as she turned to face the white blond. She found that he was talking to Jace. On top of Jace, his fingers digging into his skin that was quickly turning violet._ Think, _she told herself, eyes scanning the living room of the stranger Jace was visiting._

" _I will be the last the you see in this world, for it is I who allowed you to live this long. Without me, you are nothing. I made you into what you are!" He hissed. She winced at his extremely aggravated voice. She heard her father use that tone before when she was in the basement and he was talking to… the two boys she was looking at now. Clary thought that she caught Jace's stare as she meandered around the small room. Her eyes landed on crackling fire, and the formed metal next to it._

 _Clary gripped the poker in her hand, sucking in a deep breath and praying to whatever god was out there that she wouldn't back down. Her emotions were jumbled, hormones bouncing off the walls as she debated what was morally right as she warmed the metal rod. She thought back to when she was a little girl, what the woman had told her about her father doing the greater good for his homeland. Jonathan was once a normal person. Carrying around a normal mentality. He had aspirations, colorful dreams, and hope glimmering in his dark eyes. Somewhere along the way to the present, he had lost all of those things. His humanity burned out. Possibly literally. He was the dog puppy that was trained to fight, and now she had to put him down._

 _Clary swallowed, raising the poker like a baseball bat just as Jonathan was finishing his dramatic speech. "And just as I created you into something powerful, watch - watch as I turn you into nothing. Watch as I turn you into nothing, Jace Herondale."_

 _She swung._

Clary screamed. Sitting up and scrunching gray sheets in her fingers. Someone was shaking her, calling her name but she refused to hear it over the one repeating in her ear. As they kept calling for her, their words warmed her left cheek.

"Clary!" Sebastian repeated for what had to be the sixth time. She was shaking now, her scream halted over the dryness of her throat. Her teeth had sunk into her lower lip. Showing no mercy as she drew blood and tasted it before it was diluted by saliva. The grip on her shoulder eased as she stilled. The man shaking her was rubbing her back in a soothing manner, whispering calm words into her ear. " _You're all right. You're all right. I'm here. Don't worry."_ He said softly. Gently.

She turned to stare at him, seeing moonlight shine off his bare chest. If she lowered her gaze, Clary would see the band of his sweats that he put on before bed. Her stomach gaze that familiar flutter and she placed her hand against it, calming down instantly. _We're fine._ She'd been thinking that sentence a lot lately. If started to feel like Clary was trying to soothe herself rather than her daughter. _Her daughter, she was going to be a mother!_ What would her daughter think when she found out she had killed a man before? _Her daughter was with her when she did it!_ Jonathan had died a while after Jace and Clary had consummated their 'relationship.'

The words Sebastian was saying were almost exact to the ones Clary had been repeated to herself. It was surprising to hear them outside of her head. And she realized that he had stop saying them and was instead rubbing his palm up and down the points of her spine as she sat with her back curled. Her eyes stung with tears she didn't know had been dripping from her chin and onto his chest as Sebastian cradled her in his arms. His strong arms. Though they weren't a golden tan.

"I did something terrible." She whispered into the dark bedroom. His rubbing had stopped, yet he didn't pull back from her. Instead, Sebastian began to rock her like a child. Clary felt ridiculous. From being held like this, and for finding it comforting. "I - I don't think you'll want me after finding out."

"Nonsense." He argued. She shook her head, wondering if she should tell him about Jonathan or let the subject drop. In her ear, she heard the ticking of a clock, and looking around the bedroom walls till she settled on a small clock that was situated on Sebastian's dresser. _Jace,_ she thought about him. About the dream. And then her eyes widened.

"Is the computer still in the guest room?" Clary asked after what had to have been a few minutes of silence. This time Sebastian did pull back.

"Why? Do you need to use it? And if you do… it's past _midnight_." Sebastian questioned. She struggled out of his hold, sitting across from him, having to pull her eyes away from his shining chest. He had bed hair, and his stubble had grown. Was going to grow into a beard if he didn't do something about it. "Clary?" _Crap, he'd been talking to her._

"Sorry, I was thinking." She began. "I just… the baby!" She said louder than she intended. _Only because she was going to use her own daughter as an excuse._ Sebastian's eyebrows rose in both suspicion and confusion. He crossed his muscular arms across his bare chest and questioned her with his stare. "I was scared that something was wrong with her… and then I realized that I need to do some research on pregnancies. You know: vaginal discharge and labor-"

"Okay okay! I got it." Sebastian groaned. "You know we can ask all these things at your next appointment, right? I'm sure the doctors wouldn't mind a nervous first time mom, Clary." He reasoned. Her eyes dodged around the room as she scanned her mind for a response. Something he believed.

"I heard that pregnancy can increase your libido, and I want to know if it's true." She blurted. His eyes widened, but at least his arms uncross from their suspicious pose. He cleared his throat before he spoke again.

"Uh - okay." He whispered. Clary smiled gratefully at him, kissing his cheek and rushing off the bed.

After closing the door quietly behind her, Clary made her way down the apartment hallway, her hands sliding along the walls for the guest bedroom. Her fingers bumped a cold knob. She pivoted on her feet and twisted it. The door opened with a small squeak. The light switch was hard to find so she settled for using the desk lamp. _Her eyes burned anyway,_ she thought to herself. Clary sat down on the office chair, raising the seat before logging in to the laptop with her username. _Jace,_ she kept repeating in her head as her fingers began to type when she found the right search engine. Her bottom lip was throbbing from the assault committed by her teeth, yet she still chewed on it. When Clary's tired eyes rested on a certain page, she finally released the tender skin.

 **Burglary turned kidnapping.**

 _ **On a cold February night in Geneva, New York,**_

 _ **Celine Herondale walked into her living room to**_

 _ **find that a strange man had entered her home. "He**_

 _ **attacked me, and beat me unconscious." The young**_

 _ **mother suffered serious injuries, along with a**_

 _ **miscarriage. Her husband - Stephan Herondale -**_

 _ **found her, except for their five year old son: Jace Herondale.**_

 _ **Since then numerous search parties have been held in**_

 _ **not only Geneva, but the entire state of New York.**_

 _" **I must've left the door unlocked."**_

 _ **Celine Herondale tearfully admitted.**_ _ **The police call this**_

 _ **a case that - unfortunately -**_ _ **could have been prevented.**_

 _ **As of now, there are**_ _ **no suspects...**_

Her heart sputtered to a stop, her lungs drawing in air as she struggled to contain her wild emotions. Taking a rather large breath of air, she allowed herself to reread the snippet over again. Geneva was far from New York city, but if she was certain that the missing boy, the missing _son_ of Celine and Stephen Herondale, was the Jace she loved - than the distance wouldn't matter.

* * *

 **AN: Do you guys think that it was a good thing Clary didn't open up about killing Jonathan? If he found out that there was another person involved in her kidnapping, I'm sure that he'd endlessly search for Jace. Though the rest of the world doesn't know who took or, and probably never will.**

 **It's obvious that Clary is going to search for Jace's parents! But what will she tell them? That their missing son has fathered her child? That he was involved in her kidnapping? What if they aren't even alive? You'll just have to see in the next chapter!**

 **That being said, _please_ review and tell me what you think of _this_ one. **


	23. Maybe Baby

**AN: I'm _so_ sorry that this chapter is long overdue! I've just... experienced an incredibly shitty writers block. Sorry for any grammar errors btw.**

 **Anyway... here's the newest chapter of The Captor, hope you like it!**

* * *

"Just take some deep breaths, Clary. Deep breaths." Isabelle instructed - and also

demonstrated. It was hard to breath over the smell of hairspray and perfume. Putting the two together created a combination that made her nauseated. Simon was behind Isabelle, demonstrating by breathing between his clenched teeth and waving his hands back and forth. Sebastian had his hands on her shoulder, massaging the anxiety out of her. Though, he was failing to do so as her heart was beating quickly against her chest. Clary placed her hands on her stomach; finally able to inhale slowly when she felt the soft kicks of her daughter.

"Deep breaths." Clary nodded, her stiff curls bouncing as she did so. Her gaze was caught on Magnus using some of her foundation on himself. "Hey! You're not the one getting an important interview!" She snapped, reaching for it but having her stomach stop her. _What happened to twenty-eight weeks?_ Clary groaned internally. Magnus bit back a smile as he set the skin cream down and approached her.

"Sorry, but this place has the good stuff." He excused. Alec smacked his shoulder, muttering something about not being grateful with the stuff his boyfriend had so _graciously_ bought him. "Plus, you don't even _need_ makeup!" Magnus added. Clary's eyes thinned, Isabelle stepped back, and Simon kneeled at his friend's side to calm her down.

"What are you trying to say?" She huffed, crossing her arms over her stomach. Sebastian's massage deepened. Silently begging her to take it easy.

"H-he's talking about your glow, Clary!" Simon interjected. The redhead smacked his hand off her knee. Wanting to know just _what_ Magnus was implying. Their not-so-small group had often warned him when his words were dangerously close to insulting her. When Clary was able to calm down, she would realize that she needed someone to be honest with her. That was perhaps the one thing she recognized of her mother's personality after she had left. At first, she thought that people were being nice to her, but then she learned that they were lying to protect her feelings. Especially Sebastian when it came to converting the one of the guest rooms into a nursery.

"Clary, you and I both know that the world is going to be staring at your swollen belly rather than your face." Magnus sighed. Alec smacked his arm harder than he had before, while Isabelle grabbed some makeup and offered suggestions to Clary. Sebastian peppered her face with kisses - and for the first time they had failed to lower her heart rate. His kisses were nothing more than warm embraces to her. Smooth flowing lava compared to a devastating blaze that only _one_ person could start. Clary consciously pulled down her blue dress in attempt to cover her stomach. Which, of course, didn't work. "Why did you want to do this interview, anyway?" Magnus asked.

She sucked in a breath, preparing her answer. "I… I guess some part of me wants to get it out of the way. Give the public what they want so they'll stop trying so hard to figure it out on their oud - what happened to me, I mean." Clary began. Sebastian blinked, taking one of her small hands in his, kissing the knuckles. "I want to be brave! Not remain a frightened girl that was kidnapped a year ago. This thing changed me," she looked around the room, at her saddened friends. "It changed _all of us._ "

"So is that what you're going to tell them? That you're not the same girl anymore?" Sebastian asked.

"No. I'm going to… actually, I'm not sure what I'll say, but I'm _done_ playing the victim. Have you seen the pictures they have of me? On the magazines? I look frightened!" She thought back to the images of her cradled in Sebastian's arms as he walked her around the apartment. "Maybe if they see how relaxed… how I'm not some caged animal, it'll change the public's view on me."

"We're on in thirty!" Someone shouted. Clary began to pant again, her hands desperately cradling her bump for some support. _We can do this, we can do this,_ she thought positively. She tried to imagine that the thump she received was a high five. Tried.

"You can do this! You're Clarissa Fairchild, the girl who survived!" Simon chanted - the rest of her friends as well - as she struggled to get off the chair. Sebastian placed his hands on her back, helping her up when she nearly slipped backwards on her flats. Clary wondered if maybe it was too soon to do an interview - judging by the looks she received as Sebastian kissed her cheek. The staff motioned for her to hurry up as she took her seat on a thick chair that made a noise of deflation when she rested her weight on it. Her friends all gave her a thumbs up, with the exception of Isabelle blowing a kiss. _Don't kick the bladder and we get ice cream for dinner,_ she silently vowed with her palm pressed to her swollen abdomen. The baby kicked back.

A pretty blonde, no older than mid twenties, strolled into the room. Clary wondered what she was doing, and huffed in defeat when the girl took a seat across from her. _Really?_ She growled as her eyes landed on the woman's flat stomach and… other parts. Besides her stomach, Clary didn't need makeup because all eyes would be focused on the curvaceous beauty that just so happened to be her interviewer. _No wonder this is a popular show._ Clary questioned if she was famous for her return, or the fact that she came back twenty - now twenty _eight_ \- weeks pregnant.

There was a live audience, each of the members staring directly at Clary. More importantly, staring at her rounded stomach. She was glad that at the apartment, she had packed a few outfits. After the interview, Clary had a doctor's appointment, and then she was leaving town. Headed to Geneva, Jace's hometown.

"Surviving, you and I do it every time we take in a breath of air, drink a glass of water, adjust the air conditioner. But, to others, surviving is so much more than that. It's fighting for a meal, begging for warmth, and swallowing spit. Today, we will experience second hand the experiences a young woman made. How she fought for survival." Clary noticed that behind them was a large screen for the audience to view. It zoomed in on Kaelie as she talked, not acknowledging Clary yet. "I'm Kaelie Whitewillow," the woman continued. "Here with me today, is Clarissa Adele Fairchild." Kaelie smiled at the redhead - flashing her teeth as bright as a full moon.

"Please, call me Clary." She insisted.

"Alright, _Clary._ It's nice to finally see you in person." Kaelie grinned.

"I think I'm the one who should be saying that," Clary said, causing a laughter to spread amongst the audience. Kaelie laughed, nudging Clary's knee before composing herself. "Actually, it's nice to see all of you," she turned towards the audience. "I've heard stories of people all around, searching for me… and I have to give thanks. What you people did was more than my family could ask for." The crowd applauded, the camera zoomed in on them.

"And how is your family, Clary?" Kaelie asked. Clary paused, not sure how to answer this question.

"We're… adjusting. What's happened to us was nothing short of a nightmare, and it's going to take time for us to wake up." The answer caused silence. One that proved what Clary had said was perfect.

"Is it strange that this is the same show that broadcasted your funeral?" The other woman asked. Clary nodded subtly.

"Actually, I watched it. The place… where I was held, it had a small T.V." Clary stated. Kaelie's eyes widened. Her right hand flew to her chest, mouth opening to let out a pitiful gasp.

"I can't imagine how horrible it must've been for you to watch your family let go. To lay flowers on your tombstone." She responded. It was horrible for Clary, but the woman's acknowledgment seemed staged. As if her reactions were all heightened from what was normal.

"As awful as it was, I wasn't angry. If they had known I was still out there, they wouldn't have stopped looking. From what evidence was found, there was nothing to presume other than that I had vanished." Clary rubbed her neck, remembering the syringe that had broken the skin and drugged her… she remembered what Jace used to be.

"How would you recall your abduction? Can you remember it?" Kaelie asked.

"It was the worst day of my life… I can't forget it, even if I tried." Clary sighed. "I remember telling my friend where I was going-" She stopped herself mid sentence. Did she want to jostle memories of Jace from the city of New York? What if someone had seen him? What if Isabelle started to recollect more about his facial features? "I wanted some fresh air, and then I was being thrown into a car."

"How did your captor manage to get you in the car?"

"He drugged me."

"Ah." Kaelie nodded, rubbing her hands together. "At what point did you realize that you could die?" She asked.

"I was in a basement. My hands were tied behind my back. It was cold… though, it would get colder as winter came and passed. I saw him standing across the room. He had some cigarette in his mouth and was just… intimidating me." Clary scowled at the memory. She knew that whoever had been with her wasn't Jace, it was some monster. The real Jace kept her warm in a freezing room, fed her when Jonathan refused to. The thought of him made her eyes water.

"Intimidating you?" The woman repeated.

"Yes. Trying to scare me. Making me believe that what I was experiencing was lucky compared to other kidnapped victims. " She clarified.

"And were you lucky?" The question shocked Clary. Made her clutch her stomach to relieve her anxiety.

"I suppose in some ways, I was. I could be dead. I came back. In that form, I am lucky." She answered.

"Did you ever ask him why he took you?" Clary wanted to roll her eyes.

"Yes." She remembered Jace's answer.

"What was his response?" The woman continued. She had an expectant look on her face, as this hadn't been discussed with anyone. The police had constantly searched for this answer, and even though Clary eventually found out why she was abducted, she gave the same answer Jace had in the beginning.

"He said he wasn't stupid." Clary said, staring at some meaningless part of the stage. The interview lagged on, Kaelie not sure how to bring up the subject of the baby. Finally, Clary mentioned it herself when they had been dodging the subject for well over ten minutes after Kaelie had talked about sexual assault. "As awful as the experience was, it gave me something that I will be forever grateful of." She swore.

"And what's that?" Kaelie questioned.

"My daughter." Some of the audience were visibly affected by her statement. Kaelie adjusted her sitting position, smiling at Clary.

"So you're having a baby girl?" Clary nodded as her answer. "Well, I'm happy for you!" The audience clapped. "How did you find out you were pregnant?"

"I found out when I was rescued," the word was hard for Clary to spit out. "The doctors ran some tests on me, and told me I was pregnant."

"Were you far along?" Clary knew what she was trying to ask, _if she was able to have an abortion at the time._

"The doctors said I was around twenty weeks along. That was when I found out the gender of the baby." She answered, patting her stomach. Clary saw the camera zoom in on a shot of her swollen abdomen. "I think I was in love with her then, when I saw her on the ultrasound machine."

"You were in your second trimester… did it ever register that you were pregnant? Weren't there any symptoms?" The woman asked. Clary thought of the spotting, of the heightened nausea. Perhaps the symptoms were right in her face, and she had refused to believe them.

"I guess there were, but I wasn't looking for them. I wasn't even showing. Not really. I chalked it up to weight gain." She responded.

"At the house you were found, there were baby supplies. Do you think your captor knew you were pregnant?" The question made Clary flinch. She'd been trying to ignore it. Trying to forget that the baby was the reason he left.

"I… I don't know. I don't know if this was him getting bored with me, or if he didn't want a baby around. I don't think I'll ever find out." Clary breathlessly admitted. Tears blurred her vision. Soaked her lashes as she tried to absorb them back into her eyes.

From the corner of her sight, she caught the camera pausing on her somber expression.

* * *

"God, she's gotten so big since the last appointment." Clary whispered, looking at the monitor. Yet again, the breath had been taken out of her lungs as she watched her daughter in action. The baby… she was so beautiful. Unlike anything Clary had even seen previously. The combination of Jace's heavenly appearance, and Clary's delicate features made for a stunning being. Clary watched as the baby sucked her thumb - she had done that at almost every appointment, as if that were the only thing to keep her entertained. Besides Clary's humming. This child, it was active. She was going to be a fighter, like her parents. She was going to be strong.

"Any new developments, doc?" Sebastian - who had been observing the models of fetal development hung on the wall - asked the doctor.

"Well, I'm sure you've already known that she's developed a sense of hearing. Not much. Most of what she hears is her mother's heartbeat- internal noises, really. Though, I'm sure she can hear some parts of a conversation. Have you been talking to her?" He was looking at Clary. Which, in answer to his question, had been talking to her daughter. She talked to her often, as if she were an imaginary friend. A security blanket. Whether it was while she was waiting in line, or laying next to Sebastian, Clary would find time to communicate with her daughter. Knowing that she could somewhat hear her brought joy to the redhead.

" **Are you hungry again, baby?" Clary asked. Sebastian kissed her cheek, and responded with a** _ **no.**_ " **I wasn't talking to you." She chuckled, pointing to her stomach as it let out another growl.**

" _Everyday_." Sebastian chuckled, patting Clary's arm. The doctor smiled, but it was a pitiful smile. Clary wondered if he had seen the morning news on one of the hospital televisions. The thought made her consider that most of the country had probably seen the interview. She was probably on the channel's Facebook page… maybe Jocelyn had watched it? Clary hoped she did.

"Have you two thought of any names?" The doctor questioned. _Names,_ Clary thought to herself.

" **Okay, I'll say the name and you just do your thing. Got that?" Clary asked to her bump as she read the names on her laptop. Her eyes squinted as the screen emitted an uncomfortable brightness in the dark room. "How about… Ruby?" She placed her hand on her stomach, waiting for her daughter to kick. No such luck. "Ah! This one sounds pretty… Katherine. Maybe we can call you Kat for short?" Her hands was still on her bump the smile slipping from her face when her daughter still refused to respond. You're losing it, Clary, she thought to herself as she let out a sigh of annoyance.**

"Can't think of any yet." She shrugged.

"That's fine. Several parents wait until the birth of their child to name them. It's not uncommon." The doctor assured. It comforted her. The doctor moved his wand across Clary's stomach one last time before turning off the ultrasound machine. He handed paper towels to her, allowing the cool gel to wiped clean. "So, Ms. Fairchild, are there any question you have before the appointment is over?" He questioned.

"Actually-" Clary thought for a second, not wanting to surprise Sebastian with the news that she was going to travel to Geneva. "No, I don't have any questions." She finished.

* * *

"I swear to God…" Clary huffed out as she paced the floor of Sebastian's apartment. Actually, it was their apartment. Their being him, Clary and the baby. While he supported the fact, whenever she tried to change some stuff around, baby proof the place, he'd throw a fit. At least he was giving her a glimpse at what tantrums would be like. And, as of right now, he was getting on her last nerve. No, not when he suggest she call her baby Hermione. Not when he bought an infant's halloween costume that made her daughter look like a pumpkin. Not even when he'd taken out the junk food in his refrigerator and replaced it with pregnancy-friendly food. It was now, that after he learned the baby could start hearing things, that he began to experiment. "My daughter will not come into this world knowing the eight mile track!" She yelled over Eminem.

At least he was playing it at _decent_ hours.

"Oh come on! Who wouldn't want to know the eight mile track when they were born? This will be her lullaby!" Clary stared at Sebastian in horror, worried that he was being _serious._

"Alright, alright… I'll put on your damn piano music." He pushed the button on the stereo, causing the CD to pop out. He switched it for one she had purchased, and soon Erik Satie's piano playing was flooding the space of the apartment. She recognized the piece as something Jace had hummed to her. The baby was kicking again. Soft, sweeping motions. Not the rough kicks that could make Clary wince in pain.

"Sebastian, would you mind if I-"

"If you what?" He cut off, blinking at her with eyes that she couldn't help but get lost in. Not in a way of affection, but of how much pain was visible in them. What he had endured when she was gone.

"I wanted to-" _Think Fairchild!_ " I wanted to visit my mother. Patch things up between us. Would you mind if I left for a few days?" Sebastian stared at her for a few moments, then shook his head.

"No, I wouldn't mind. But, are you sure you're ready?"

"Yes." She answered. Mostly because she wasn't even going to see her mother, and possibly due to the fact that she was desperate to see Jocelyn again. "Can you give us some space though? I don't want any distractions. This is between us."

"... I guess so?" He shrugged.

"Thank you." Clary walked up to him and encircled Sebastian in an embrace. He returned the hug, rubbing her back before she detached herself from him. "I have some outfits in the car… if our reunion goes well." She spoke.

"Alright. Be safe. Call me when you get there." He placed a kiss on the skin of her forehead.

"I will." She answered.

It was raining outside, making the ground a slick mud. She unlocked her car by pressing a button on the keyfob. First, she approached the trunk, making sure that everything was where it needed to be. Clary was careful of her protruding stomach - cautious of the trunk door when she opened it it so that it did not come into contact with her daughter. The suitcase was where it had been placed earlier this morning. It wasn't complete stuffed with items, as most travelers had the habit of doing to their luggage. Instead, it had a few maternity clothes in it.

For a split second, she wondered if this was all worth it. If Jace was worth searching for. Did he want to be found? Did he want to see her again? It was possible that he didn't know of the baby, that he was simply bored of Clary, like she had stated earlier in the interview… but Jace had said he loved her, more than once. Whenever he got the chance. Should she forget those moment? Perhaps the best moments in her life?

He was worth it.

There was a tap on her shoulder, making her turn around. "Sebast-" She stopped mid sentence, staring at a middle aged man with a coating of frosted stubble on the bottom portion of his face. There were no laugh lines on the sides of his dark eyes, and surrounding his mouth were scowl lines. Clary's brows furrowed, in both confusion and pain as her daughter gave a strong kick against her ribs.

"Are you Clarissa Fairchild?" The man asked. Oh, he was just a curious citizen. Clary rolled her eyes, prepared to answer some stupid question that he had.

"Yes I am." He looked down for a split second. Clary watched his calloused fingers twitch. She grabbed his arm, jostling him out of his thoughts. "Who are you-" She had managed to pull back his sleeve, revealing a sequence of numbers tattooed on his forearm. Clary was silent, fear making her heart soar past a healthy beat. Her daughter was furiously kicking at her containment.

"Mr. Morgenstern sends his condolences." The man said. _Condolences?_

"What-" He shoved her forward into open trunk of her, face colliding with scratchy fabric. Before she was able to act, before she was able to cry out for help, he slammed the trunk down on the small of her back. The impact pushed her stomach roughly against the surface of the trunk. She felt as if she were split in half - the wind knocked straight out of her lungs. Salty tears sprung from her eyes as pain radiated from her abdomen.

There was a shuffling of feet. By the time she had slipped and collided with slick ground, the attacker was gone. Clary's mouth hung open as she gasped for air. The amount of pain she was in… it was worse than anything she had experienced. Not only was it a deep physical pain, but an emotional one. She pressed a hand to her stomach… no kicks. This was what turned the gasping into pained screams. Into wails of agony. At some point, Sebastian had ran out of the apartment, as well as some pedestrians, to her side. It was this point that she realized she had been screaming " _My baby, my baby,"_ over and over again.

But was there still a baby?

* * *

 **AN: I know, I'm evil. I don't write for a few months, and then I leave a major cliffy.**

 ** _Please_ review! I'm anxious to see what you guys think of this chapter!**


	24. Surprise Visitor

**AN: So, I realize that a new year has already started by the time some of you are reading this. Idk, I found that funny. Anyways, I hope you enjoy this chapter! Happy New Years!**

 **PS: sorry for any grammar errors!**

* * *

Her heart was pumping fast. Sweat was mixing with rain water as it accumulated on her pores. The woman's red hair stuck to her temples - there hadn't been any time to get a cab. Jocelyn was running. She'd ran all the way to Beth Israel Hospital. Her shoes were currently squeaking against the hospital's tile floor. It had been raining. It still was. Perhaps this was why Clary was in the hospital. Why Clary was in the _emergency room._ Since Jocelyn was still on her daughter's emergency contact list, she was called, being told that something horrible had happened to Clary… and her granddaughter. Jocelyn was trying to accept the fact that she had one, that Clary was going to be a mother at nineteen, that the baby's father was the man responsible for Clary's kidnapping. But, Jocelyn worried that there wasn't a point now. If something horrible happened, the baby could be- no. She couldn't assume the worst.

"My daughter, Clarissa Adele Fairchild, what room is she in?" Jocelyn could barely gather oxygen in her lungs as she spoke. The secretary rolled her eyes, typing unknown words into a hospital search engine. "Please, hurry." The redhead pleaded, worried that by the time she reached her daughter, it would be too late to offer comfort, and instead offer condolences.

"One second, ma'am." The secretary sighed. "Ah. Clarissa Adele Fairchild. Room 103-" Jocelyn was already sprinting again. The secretary shouted at her to slow down or face security. Jocelyn ignored her and continued her running, glancing at every door she passed. _Clary,_ the name kept repeating in her head. Jocelyn vowed that she'd quit this childish anger that she had toward her daughter for keeping the baby. _She'd beg for forgiveness. She'd never forgive herself if something happened to that baby… when she had been so angry at it._

Those minutes while she was running… they were the longest minutes of Jocelyn life. Not knowing if something tragic had happened. If she was supposed to be running to the morgue instead of a hospital room.

Long ago, when Clary was a few years old, she'd been put in the emergency room. Clary was with Luke, and when Jocelyn was called, it was a frightening experience. Second to when Clary hadn't come home a year ago. Her baby had fallen down a flight of stairs - her arm needed to be set and put in a cast. Clary was so scared. Jocelyn and Luke did their best to comfort her.

" _Mum, what's going to happen to me?" Clary asked, whimpering as the doctor's wheeled her hospital bed to the operating room. "Why are they taking me away from you?" Clary continued on - oblivious to the intense pain she was experiencing. That was the thing about Clary. She was strong. Even as a baby, she'd only cry when she needed something, or she'd managed to knock her head into a piece of furniture. It only took Jocelyn to swiftly pick her up, sing her a song, or some heavy coddling from Luke and she'd be back to her old self._

" _Clary, hunny, these doctors are going to fix your arm." Jocelyn said. Clary looked down at her forearm, which was swollen. Purple. The color of her violet bed spread. "They're going to make it all better. And then I promise you we're going to take you out to Taki's… get you something special. How does that sound?" Clary was staring at her mother, silent, before she brought her hand up to her mother._

" _Then why are you crying? Aren't I supposed to be doing that?" She question. Truth be told, Clary wasn't feeling any of the pain because of shock. Jocelyn swiped at her eye, retrieving droplets of saltwater that had managed to leak through her tear ducts._

" _I'm crying because I wasn't there for you when this happened. I could have stopped it." Jocelyn admitted._

" _But you're here now."_

Jocelyn stared at her daughter's back. She had a white blanket covering her as she laid in the fetal position. Occassionaly, her back would expand as she breathed - something that immediately calmed Jocelyn from thinking the worst. And then Jocelyn realized that not only was Clary's back expanding, but it was also shuddering.

Her daughter was crying.

"Oh… _Clary_." The redhead croaked. She walked to her daughter's side, stroking her exposed arm. Clary began to sob harder, enough to where Jocelyn could hear the tears drop from her face and onto the sanitized hospital bed. "I'm sorry I wasn't here earlier… I couldn't reach my phone… and then I listened the the voicemail the hospital left. Baby, I _ran_ here. I ran all the way here to you. I'm… I'm so sorry." Jocelyn continued.

Clary sniffled. "P-please leave." She insisted. "I can't talk to you right now."

"Honey, I know this is hard. I know what you're going through-" Her daughter turned her head, green eyes stabbing at Jocelyn. The older redhead gasped, never having received such a look.

"You haven't visited me, called, or even left a damn email since I got back! How could you know what I'm going through! _Luke_ talks to me, and he's been as much a parent to me as you are. In fact, _he's better!_ He doesn't pretend I don't exist because I'm a knocked up nineteen year old!" Clary pursed her lips together, sitting up. Her words: while they did hurt, they were honest. As honest as anybody had been to the older redhead. Jocelyn looked down at the bump that resided between her daughter's hips. "Get out. I'm not supposed to be stressed for the rest of this pregnancy." She finished.

Jocelyn swallowed down a retort. "Clary, what matters is that I'm here _now_ -"

"You should have been here before!" The younger woman snapped, throwing her hands up in the air. Stopping when Clary wore an expression of disgust on her ivory face. "I nearly miscarried, _mother._ Your granddaughter… I… I nearly lost her." The tears were back in her eyes, burning a path down her face until they slid off and onto the white bed sheets. "I nearly lost her, and you wouldn't have shown nothing but hatred towards her." A scowl darkened her pale face.

"I'm so sorry." Jocelyn hiccuped. Clary took a deep breath, rubbing her stomach. It seemed as if she was on the verge of an apology before she opened her green eyes and showed just how emotionless they were when aimed at Jocelyn.

"Mother… when I came back, part of me worried that I would have changed too much. That I wouldn't be the same girl that left New York. I worried that I'd be cold. That some part of me - the part that grew up here - died while I was away." She paused. "But it's _you_ who has changed. I never thought it was possible for you to be as cruel to me as you were over the past few weeks." Jocelyn made a move towards Clary. About to get on her knees and beg for forgiveness. "I want you out."

They both knew she wasn't just talking about the hospital room.

"Clary, please don't do this. I know… I know I've been nothing short of a monster these past weeks, but I'll change! I don't want to be that woman anymore! I want to be a part of my grandchild's life, a part of _both_ your lives." Clary looked towards the room's window. In the distance, Jocelyn could make out the citizens of New York, running about through their daily lives.

"I can't do this now. I can't." The tears were back, but Clary didn't seem to notice. Or care. "Please leave." She sounded tired. Exhausted both emotionally and physically by her mother's visit. Jocelyn wanted to tuck her into the bed, warm her with her maternal embrace.

But she lost the ability to do so. "Okay." Jocelyn nodded, pushing her purse higher up her arm. Clary didn't look at her mother as she walked away. She didn't have the strength to reject her again if she would have approached her with another apology. "My insurance will cover your injuries. Call Luke if you need anything." Jocelyn said before she exited the room.

And, for the time being, her daughter's life.

* * *

"Sebastian, do you really have to carry me?" Clary groaned as she was lifted through the threshold of the apartment. He nodded. His jaw was set in a stern line, serious as ever. In fact, she wanted to bet money that he was just as serious as she was at the moment.

"Yes, I do." Sebastian answered. The apartment smelled like… like _home_. Not home as in where Jocelyn, Luke, and Grayson lived. Home as in where she awoke to the giggles of Scott as he played with Jace's waves while he peppered kisses across Clary face. _That home._ It smelled like sweet apples and wild flowers. Of man and baby formula. Well, the baby formula was more in her head than it was an existing smell. But Clary swore that she could smell slick pores after a long session of physical workout. Perhaps it was Sebastian. "Where to, ma'am?" He questioned. She guffawed at him, slapping his chest.

"The room please." Clary answered. His heavy feet began to echo throughout the house as he escorted her to their bedroom. "What's going to happen? Who's going to stay with me while you're at work? I mean… the doctor said that I could move if was to use the bathroom, but nothing else." She asked him.

"I asked Alec and Isabelle to look after you. Simon volunteered, so I didn't really need to ask this of him." Was his response.

"Alec said _yes?_ Not to be ungrateful, but Alec doesn't really like me, and I'm not sure I want him to poison my meals if I say the wrong thing." Clary worried. Sebastian laughed as he kicked open the door of their bedroom. The bed was made, but the sheets were wrinkled. As if Sebastian was planning to take a nap before he heard her screams from outside… hell, half of New York had heard her screaming from their front yard.

"Magnus works a lot. He said that this will keep his mind occupied instead of him just laying around the loft for him to come home." This wasn't exactly heartwarming, but Clary was thankful that Alec saw her as useful to him. It was better than them butting heads whenever they were in each other's presence. "Are you okay with him being here? He doesn't have to if you don't want him. It can be you, Iz, and Simon if that what you wish." He suggested.

"No!" Her answer startled Sebastian as he set her down on the bed. "I'm fine with him being here. He can help set up the baby's furniture with Simon while Isabelle helps me decorate her room - don't worry, I'll just order her around while I sit." Clary added after noticing Sebastian's disapproval.

She propped herself up on a gray pillow, sighing in content. The bed was _much_ better than one of those at the hospital… though, there wasn't a television set to keep her entertained. Clary frowned when she saw the time on the tacky desk clock. It was nearly time for her to go back to bed. _So many things had happened today. First, she was interviewed on one of New York's most viewed news station, then she went to a doctor's appoint, and afterwards, was physically assaulted by a stranger who had the intent of killing her daughter. And now she was supposed to go to sleep?_

"Glad you have your day planned out." Sebastian chuckled, taking a spot next to her on the bed. After a few moments of peaceful silence, he began again. "Clary… what you told the police… was it true what the man had said before he hurt you?" His question brought Clary to think about the ordeal.

"What? How he was practically sent by father - who I haven't had contact with in more than a decade? Yes. He said that. Though, I can't be sure if he was telling the truth." Sebastian stroked her thumb with his own as he intertwined their fingers. Clary was so painfully close to telling him about her father: what he had done, and who he had done it too. As far as Sebastian knew, Mr. Morgenstern was simply a father who sent away his only child. If he knew what her father what capable of, he'd realize that sending a man to kill his unborn grandchild wasn't _exactly_ out of character for Valentine Morgenstern.

"We'll find this guy, babe." He promised before bringing her hand to his lips and planted a soft kiss on it. She smiled at him. "We can even move if it makes you feel safer." He prompted.

"You'd move… for me?" Clary whispered.

"I'd do just about anything for you." Sebastian swore with the same amount of volume passing through his mouth. They were talking so quietly that Clary could hear the clock ticking on the nightstand. His serious expression slid from his face and he exchanged it for a sheepish grin.

"Though it's a grand gesture, I don't want to move. I like it here. I think it's roomy enough for when the baby comes." Sebastian patted her stomach, wary of the bruising that was splotched across her abdomen. "Though, we have to redecorate." He pouted at the request.

"Why?" She laughed at his childish voice. At his pout.

"Because it's the twenty first century and you have a _clock_. That's why. And it's not even a new model! It has bells and a weird design of a baby on it!" Clary pointed out, grabbing the clock from the nightstand. Sebastian stared at the clock - or possibly the sleeping infant that was on it - for a few seconds, then pulled it from her hands. "What? What is it?" She started up. Sebastian shook his head.

"I didn't buy the stupid thing. I thought you did because you're pregnant and making irrational decisions and thought it could go in the baby's room… so are you saying that you didn't?" Sebastian's brow was high, while her heart rate was reaching new speeds. "Magnus probably found this. Either him, or Grayson." Clary nodded, her thoughts circling around the impossible. Sebastian brought her face close to his, placing kissing at seemingly random spots. "You inquisitive girl. Clary, I think you need to sleep a little." He chuckled.

"That's… probably a good idea." She was already beginning to yawn when he started his next sentence.

"Our friends will be here in the morning, babe. Do you want me to wake you up when I leave? I just don't want you to panic if I'm not right beside you in bed." Sebastian propositioned. Clary nodded. "Alright. But, call me if anything if anything. There's no such thing as ridiculous when it comes to aiding a pregnant woman." He grinned.

"Okay." She agreed.

And true to his word, Sebastian did kiss her when he left for work, telling her that he'd be back around three in the afternoon. Her response was groggy. Muddled with sleep. The bedsheets were already beginning to cool with the absence of his body - even though he was still telling her the plans of the day. Isabelle would be the first to arrive. Simon had to take care of his job for the city newspaper, but just for the morning. Then, after they had taken enough care of her, Alec would show up with Rebecca.

"Love you, babe." Sebastian whispered as he kissed both of her flushed cheeks. Clary scrunched her nose at the smell of it. The baby was _not_ a fan. He pinched her nose before leaving. _Jerk._ She wanted to shout that after him, but he had already left the bedroom. Now, there was only the ticking of the tacky clock to lull her back to sleep. She was almost snoring before the bedroom door creaked open again.

"Forget something?" She grumbled, eyes closed in case he turned on the lights. The space beside her sunk with the weight of him. He immediately scooted to her, kissing her neck, wrapping his arms to touch her stomach. Clary sighed in content, smiling to herself when the air was replaced with the scent of a different cologne. "Thank _God_ you replaced that cologne. The baby wasn't having it." She chuckled. He smelled of sugar… of things that warmed her heart and made the baby kick in excitement.

He hummed in agreement.

"Not going to work? Couldn't stand to be without me?" Clary teased.

"Mmhmm." Sebastian answered, warming her body as he pulled her into an embrace she couldn't help but recall from a few months ago. Kissing her neck and shoulders. It made her heart race, which wasn't something it often did when he kissed her so simply. Perhaps this was her moving on from Jace? The baby kicked against the hand that he had over her bump. He found this amusing, and gave a deep laugh.

"Cut it out. Baby needs sleep. Both of us." Clary admonished. Her daughter must've realized that her mother was tired, and ceased her kicking.

She wasn't sure how much time had passed when she felt someone tugging on her arm. Sunlight was turning her face red. _Why didn't he shut the curtains?_ Clary groaned, opening her eyes and staring into deep blue ones. She gave a small shriek.

"Dammit, Isabelle!" Clary cursed. "Why are you even here?" She grumbled.

"Uh, don't you remember that horrifying incident in which you were put on bed rest? Jesus, Fairchild, I'm starting to think it wasn't just your stomach that took some damage." Isabelle scoffed. Clary squinted at her, reaching for a pillow to throw. "Sebastian called us here. Didn't he at least tell you that?" She asked.

"Yeah, but why do you need to be here if Sebastian is too? Does he really feel like I need that much assistance. Or maybe, he just doesn't want to help me shower anymore… I guess my stomach is getting rather-"

"Clary! What the _hell_ are you talking about? Sebastian isn't here!" Isabelle interrupted. Clary frowned, turning over so that she could see what was an obviously empty side of the bed. "Are you feeling alright? Because I think you've lost your nerve. I knew you should've seen a shrink after you were rescued!" She snapped.

"I swear Sebastian told me he was staying home today…" Clary murmured. She sat up in bed, rubbing her sleep-filled eyes. She didn't think she was _so_ exhausted that she could have imagined him coming back to bed, wrapping his strong arms around her and lulling her back to sleep. Was it possible that this was the case?

"Well, no one else is here besides you and I. Simon was planning on coming in about an hour or so." Isabelle said. "Are you sure you're alright? You look, I don't know, a little pale in the face. Even for someone as colorless as you." The other girl commented.

"I'm fine, Isabelle. Just a little confused is all." Clary assured. "Anyways… what are we supposed to do? I'm not supposed to walk around unless it's to the bathroom… can you carry me to the baby's room?" Isabelle's eyes widened.

"Uh, Clary, you _do_ realize that you nearly suffered a miscarriage yesterday? You aren't supposed to be moving around until a few weeks before your due date! Maybe even after the baby is born!" She exclaimed; throwing her manicured fingers in the air to emphasize how impossible of an idea it was.

"Ugh, you're no fun." Clary pouted.

"No. I'm the fun police. And, luckily for you, I'm on duty, which means no walking around as if you aren't recovering from a physical assault." Isabelle proclaimed. Clary wanted to cry. Sebastian had said that she could _at least_ sit in the baby's room while Isabelle decorated it!

"The doctor said I could move around a little! The bed rest is just a precaution in case the baby decides to come early-"

" _And blood flows to the placenta to increase birth weight;_ got it. Sebastian already filled me in. After which, he said that I'm not supposed to give in to your little pity fest." The Lightwood girl interrupted. "Hey, lighten up! You get to take it easy for a while, and then at the end of this vacation, you get a baby! That seems awesome, doesn't it?" Isabelle smiled.

"No! It's awful! How in the world am I supposed to get things done if I'm not allowed to do anything besides stay in this damn bed all day! Who's going to set up the nursery? I was supposed to pick out some paints for Sebastian this week! And while setting up cribs isn't such a problem with all the extra manpower to go around, _who's going to get the crib?_ All the baby supplies still need to be bought… oh, I think I'm getting a headache." Clary groaned, holding her forehead in her weak hand.

"Okay, so maybe relaxing isn't so convenient to you right now, but you're doing it for the _baby._ Your baby. She needs her momma to rest up for the nights you won't get any sleep." Isabelle reminded. Clary felt guilty that she was putting her own needs above the baby's. What kind of mother does that? _Was she already failing?_ "Calm down. I can see the gears turning in that head of yours." She spoke up. "What I'm saying is: let people take care of you."

"Easier said than done." Clary frowned. Isabelle laughed at her.

Clary's time with Isabelle was nothing short of strange. After feeding Clary a breakfast of french toast and a banana, Isabelle talked the redhead's ear off; speaking of things that she definitely didn't want to hear. Things like how _great_ Simon was in bed… it made Clary shiver in disgust. When the man himself arrived, Clary wasn't too eager to see him as she had been yesterday.

"What's up, Clare bare?" Simon asked once he had let himself into the bedroom. Isabelle was filing her nails, and dropped the file to shower her boyfriend in kisses.

"You disgust me." Clary said, hands on opposite sides of her stomach. She'd held them there over the past hour. Hoping that whatever vile things Isabelle said wouldn't be carried through the womb and into her daughter's developing ears.

" _What did you do?"_ Simon growled towards Isabelle. Her cheeks tinted to the color of a ripened tomato.

"Nothing! I just talked to her. Kept her entertained with stories of us." She explained. Simon rubbed his hand down his face, sighing in disbelief. "She's just cranky because she won't be able to do any of that stuff for the next month or so." Isabelle mocked.

"How about I offer a different method of distraction?" Clary eagerly nodded at Simon's offer. "Okay. I've been making you this push mix - something you can listen to when you have the baby." He smiled. Clary blinked at him.

"Really? Let me hear it." She responded.

"Well, right now, it kinda sounds like a breakup mix…" Simon laughed, pulling out his phone. "I was planning to email this when you approached your due date, but Sebastian said that could be at anytime now." The music began to play. It sounded like something from many decades ago. She recognized the song though.

"You're going to have me push out a baby to _Piece of My Heart?"_ She giggled. Simon shrugged his shoulder, playing the next song before the current one was over. Clary nearly choked at his recommendation. "NO! NO way am I listening to Push it! That's just… no, Simon." Clary vetoed. "And speaking of _no,_ why in the world did you guys get me this clock?" She asked.

"What clock?" Isabelle inquired. Clary pointed to the nightstand where the small, old fashioned clock was placed. Her eyes squinted at it, before she took a few strides toward the clock to pick it up. "I didn't get you this. Simon?" She turned and questioned.

"Nope, but that does look like something my mother would keep. She likes antique… and you already know that." He commented after witnessing an eye roll from Clary. _Of course she knew of his mother's antique collecting!_ "Grayson was talking about getting you something for the baby, but I don't think this is his area of gift giving." Simon pondered.

"Ask Alec. If Magnus bought it, he'd know." And she did ask him once the two left.

"The fact that you think Magnus would but such an outdated decoration shocks me." He scoffed. "Are you sure Sebastian just panicked and said he didn't buy it? Maybe he didn't want to take criticism?" Alec continued.

"Sebastian doesn't make small gestures like this. If he were to get me something, it would be big, and shiny."

"Kinda like Magnus." Alec snorted. It was this Lightwood that Clary _did_ throw a pillow at. He was about to snap at her when his phone went off. Rebecca, who was at his side playing with the smartphone, quickly gave it to Alec. "Hello?" He answered once he had accepted the call. Clary listened to the conversation; which was apparently between Alec and his mother Maryse. When it was finished, he looked back at Clary with a guilty expression. "Sorry Clary, Rebecca's appointment with the social worker was rescheduled. I have to take her home."

"I'm actually fine on my own, Alec. I've been well fed, and Sebastian should be home within the next hour or so." She reassured. He nodded, picking up his adoptive sister. Rebecca waved a goodbye with her gloved hand, earning a smile from Clary.

"Well… what do you want to do?" She asked her protruding stomach. Her daughter kicked, making Clary laugh. The home phone began to ring next to her. It was Sebastian.

"Alec had to leave?" He asked once she had answered, not giving her enough time to say hello.

"Yeah. Something with the social worker. You'd have to ask him for details." Clary said to the receiver.

"So no one is with you?" He panicked. She could imagine him pacing the floor of his office, not being able to catch his breath as he thought of all the horrifying scenarios in which his girlfriend was brutally murdered in each one. "Shit. I'll see if Helen can take my shift-"

"Sebastian, I'm fine. The baby isn't kicking up a storm, and Alec left some snacks on the nightstand for me to enjoy. It should last me a while. At least until you get back." She soothed him. Clary heard the sounds of the floorboards creaking as she adjusted her sitting position on the bed. _Maybe she did need to cut down on the carbs…_

"I'm working late, babe." Sebastian groaned.

"I think I can manage. Like I said, there's enough snacks in here. Enough to last me the entire day, which I _know_ you won't be gone for. Just… call me when you're on your way back home so I can tell you what to grab from the store." She laughed. "Working late? First you're staying home, and then you can't come home on time?"

"What are you talking about?" Sebastian asked after a long pause.

"You wanted to stay home this morning. You even came back to lay with me!" She explained.

"Uh, no I didn't." He denied. Clary scratched her head, thinking to herself.

"Huh… I was probably dreaming it. This pregnancy is giving me vivid stuff to think about." She excused.

"Alright, babe. I'll call you on my way home… are you sure you'll be fine?" He asked once again.

" _Yes._ I'll be fine. The baby will keep me entertained and then I'll probably take a nap. You should be home by then." The floor squeaked again, lowering her self esteem. _Seriously kid? You aren't even thirty weeks yet!_

"Okay. I love you." He said over the phone. She nodded her head, saying it back quietly before hanging up. There was a thick silence in the room afterwards. _What was she going to do to keep herself entertained for the next few hours?_

Her bladder offered a solution.

When she walked back to the bedroom a few minutes later, she stopped to just enjoy the view she got from standing. Sebastian's apartment had a nice view of New York. Especially from his bedroom window… Clary wondered if he ever used this as an excuse to bring women over before they became a couple. A breeze travelled the room, making her wonder where it came from.

She slowly waddled over to the window, noticing that it wasn't completely shut. "Huh." Clary whispered; hand rubbing her healing stomach.

"Ya know," someone spoke - startling her. She turned around, facing a sight that was only possible in her recent dreams. "I didn't think the clock was _that_ tacky." He scoffed. Once his sarcastic comment was out of his smiling mouth, his face grew serious; though his eyes were soft. It was a look that she had caught him giving her several times when she was in the basement; when he had thought she was sleeping.

She was caught between bursting into tears, or throwing some small item at him with what little strength this pregnancy gave her.

"Jace."

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 **AN: So maybe I'm not entirely as evil as I thought I was...**

 **Tell me what you guys think of the chapter in the reviews! And I'll get back to you with another one!**


	25. In The Shadows

**AN: I couldn't let a month go by without posting, even if these are the last few hours of January. Sorry for the wait! Oh, and grammar errors. I probably have a lot of those.**

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"Ouch." Jace grumbled as she patted his forehead with a damp cloth. He had a minor gash across his skin. Nothing that would need stitches… but the thought of him hurting made her stomach flip with anxiety.

That, and her daughter seemed to be pretty active at the moment.

"Sorry," Clary apologized as she continued to clean his small abrasion. He nodded in response, the muscles of his back relaxing as she took care of him. It reminded her of what seemed like forever ago, when she was cleaning his wounds after she had killed Jonathan. Except, now, there were several things different from then. First, she was heavily pregnant with his child. Second, he appeared to be a different man. If she hadn't known any better, she would have presumed he had a sibling. A well kept sibling as opposed to his usual rugged appearance. His hair was shorter, cleaner, _sexier._ She could clearly see his jaw now that he had shaved off his amber stubble. His body was leaner; not as broad as it used to be - thinner, but still it promised strength. The clothes he wore weren't as tattered and worn. He wore a gray shirt covered by a dark leather jacket, fitting jeans covered his long legs with combat boots to complete the look.

And what was she wearing? She was wearing Sebastian's shirt. It flowed over her enlarged stomach. Clary wanted to move her hands to shield her body; embarrassed that she looked so different from the girl he'd left at the cottage.

When Jace spoke up again, his words derailed her train of thought. "Sorry for throwing a _clock at me,_ or being a little rough with the clean up?" Jace asked her, tilting his head up so that he could lock gazes with her. Clary bit back a shudder as her daughter rolled around at the stranger's voice.

After his arrival, and perhaps the rudest entry someone could make after abandoning a person - a very pregnant person! So, in the midst of her hormone induced rage, she flung the antique clock at him. Luckily for him, it had missed his eye socket and instead caused a sliver of scarlet to escape his skin.

"You're lucky it was the clock I threw. With my history of violence, it could have been a poker." She warned. A few moments of silence passed between the two of them before she began added on to her sentences. "What are you doing here?" Her voice was small. Barely a whisper. Jace's face showed several emotions: _guilt, longing, regret…_ but, he said nothing. He looked down at his feet, clenching his fist and clearing his throat.

His lips opened, as if he were to say something to her; but what could he say? There were no words. There was no consolation adequate enough to mend her heart. And, perhaps, Jace knew this. He knew that nothing… nothing he said in these moments would have no other effect than to make her question his departure.

Clary's eyes were beginning to redden from dryness. She hadn't blinked it what felt like hours. As if blinking would cause him to disappear. After all, he had left her - alone in a house that was not theirs - during a dreamless nap of hers. A part of her questioned whether it had all been some horrible nightmare. That Jace hadn't abandoned her.

"I thought… I thought you loved me." She croaked, vision blurring with feelings she'd forced down for so, so long. Jace stood up from the edge of the bed he was perched on, shaking his head and running a trembling hand through it. His golden eyes were a myriad of emotions.

"I…" He shook his head again, then cleared his throat. "If I didn't love you, if I didn't have a single care in the world for both of you," her breath hitched at the mention - at the _acknowledgment_ \- of the baby. It was better than denial. "Then you'd still be with me. But I _do_ care for you, I care for you too much and…" The more he shook his head to clear his thoughts, the more his eyes would shine in frustration. He began to pace - a few steps forward, _pivot,_ a few steps back to his original spot. The rotations were beginning to dizzy her.

"I don't understand; what are you trying to say?" She questioned, causing him to stop his annoying repetition and stare at her with a heavy gaze. "That you regret leaving? That you shouldn't have done it?" Clary prompted.

"None of this should have happened." He croaked, looking down at his calloused palms and exhaling a long breath of air. "Not any of it."

She chuckled darkly. "I think I've been saying that since I woke up in that stupid basement Jace. What, are you having some sort of guilt? Come to beg for forgiveness in order to clear your conscience?" Each of her words struck him as they left her mouth. His fingers curled back into a fist as he dealt with the brunt of her vocal attack.

"No! I'm not saying that! I'm not saying any of that!" He pleaded with her, throwing his hands in the air as if the beg the big man upstairs to give him the right words to say. Anything to get him out of this horrible, complicated dilemma. It seemed that the only way out was through screaming.

"Then _what?!_ What are you trying to tell me?!" Clary snarled. An impressive snarl left her lips, betraying the tears that were beginning to form at the corners of her eyes. "You left me for months… I was… I was moving on!" Clary was angered by his sudden appearance. Her eyes burned with hot tears. She wasn't even sure Jace had heard the end of her sentence as it was muddled by frustration. "You left me to fend for myself, to raise our child alone!"

"Do you think I _wanted_ to leave the two of you? That it was an easy decision?" His lips turned down in disbelief. Clary returned the scowl, growling deep in her throat. This was Sebastian called her _momma bear_ face. Her brows pursed together, her eyes brightened, and her throat was scorching with hateful things to say.

"We were a _team!_ It wasn't your decision to make! You weren't the one left behind, Jace!" Clary's voice grew in volume; ending in a shout. Still, there were tears scaling the length of her cheeks. "While you may hate the thought of our child, I wouldn't take back a second of my miserable stay with you-"

"I was trying to protect you!" Jace bellowed, golden eyes shielded as he closed them tightly. Her shouts lodged deep in her throat as his words shocked her. "I was trying to protect you, and I _failed._ " The tone of his voice dropped to the lowest pitch it was capable of. He stopped pacing, stopped throwing his hands in the air as he talked. Instead, lines of tears trailed down his angelic face. Clary couldn't think of a time when Jace had cried… no, Jace had always been incredibly strong. Both emotionally and physically.

But him crying now just proved _how_ strong he was.

"I can handle broken ribs, bleeding wrists, and even starvation. I can handle all of those things and still come out on top… Clary, Maia's pregnancy went by without a hitch. She and Jordan believed that everything would turn out right. That they'd walk away a happy family. I'm not sure if you saw the look in Jordan's eyes when Jonathan shot him, but it was almost like _relief_ after Maia had died just seconds before. Those two were meant to be just as much as you and I are… and like I said, I can handle many things, but losing _you?_ " His face contorted in disgust, tears adding a strong impact to his sincere words. "I'm not sure I'd survive - physically, I'd have to. I'd have to be strong for Scott. Mentally, though, I'd be dead. You'd take everything with you if you died. I'd be an empty shell, Clary. And don't for a moment think that isn't true." He swore heavily.

She looked down, unsure of how to respond to something so passionately said.

"It's too late." Clary whispered, rubbing her stomach. Warm, rough fingers gently cupped her chin, lifting her gaze from the floor. She probably looked like a mess of flushed skin and watery green eyes, yet Jace stared at her like a prized treasure. His pupils had swallowed his golden eyes that were trembling.

"There's no such thing as _can't_ when it comes to you and I." Jace promised, the baby seemingly bouncing in agreement. Her throat burned with denial that she did not want to spit out. "We're joined together, for the rest of our lives, and the rest of this world's existence." His hand hesitantly touched her stomach, avoiding the bruises despite having no clue as to where they were. The baby made soft, sweeping motions, relaxing just as her mother was. There was no fighting him on the subject. As long as Jace had been absent from her life, it never felt permanent. Yes, it was a painful wait, but not once had she given up on him returning.

This gave her an idea for a name. Nothing set in stone, but it pleased Clary more than any of the other names she had picked out of the baby book.

Clary choked on her next words, "It's a girl." Jace let out a tearful laugh, kissing the back of the redhead's hand. "Oh!" Clary squeaked when she felt a plethora of sharp kicks as if the baby were trying to escape the safety of her mother's womb. "She's kicking me right now. I think… I think she likes your voice." He looked up at her, shocked by what she had said.

"The baby - _she_ \- can hear sounds? She can hear me?" Jace asked with eagerness. Clary nodded, biting back a smile when he leaned in close to her stomach. "Can you hear me in there, little one?" Jace chuckled, continuing to rub Clary's swollen abdomen. He paused for a moment, eyes widening when the baby either kicked or punched the spot where he was massaging. "She moved!" He exclaimed, kissing the spot. The sight caused a bittersweet feeling to swell in Clary's heart.

"Jace… what are we gonna do?" She whispered. "What's going to happen to us?"

His hands traced the curve of her abdomen, his eyes following his long fingers. "We'll figure this out, because I can't leave you again."

Clary blinked back the dryness in her eyes. "Why did you come back in the first place." She hadn't known Jace for nearly as long as she'd known the rest of her friends, and yet could describe his character to a 'T'. When he did something, he was sure of himself. He was confident and certain, never hesitating in his actions. Perhaps this was why she'd reacted so strongly when she'd been left alone at their previous estate. Jace didn't _take back_ the things he had done, and though she'd waited for him, there was a subdued amount of dread in the pit of her chest as each day had past. If Jace were to have come back it meant only one thing. Not that he missed her terrible; he wouldn't put the baby or Scott - who was just as much their child as the one inside her - at risk because he was lonely.

"When I left you, I thought it'd be safe for you to go on as you had before you met me. All was fine at first. I kept watch on you at the hospital-"

"You were _there?"_ She guffawed.

He let out a heavy sigh and pinched the bridge of his nose, taking a break from showering her midsection with attention. "Clary, I was never _gone._ Not really. I could never just move across the country with the mother of my unborn child on the other side." Jace admitted. She didn't know what to think of this. This angered her, but at the same time the curiosity to know why he'd stayed so close was stronger than that.

"So what's this _danger?_ Is someone - did someone send a _hitman_ after me?!" She squeaked, her hand flattening over her chest. _The man that had nearly killed her daughter and Clary in the process… what he had said._ "Did my father send that man after me?!" Her heart rate picked up to an incredible speed.

Jace stroked his chin - one, twice - and then took her smaller hand in his. She was raised slightly higher on the bed than him as the heavier weight of his body caused him to sink into the mattress. "Yes _and_ no." Noticing the obvious confusion on Clary's face, he continued on with his answer. "A few days after your return to New York, I noticed that people were beginning to follow you around the city. They were always a few blocks away, just as I was. I'd corner them and ask what it was they came for; though they never told me. Finally, _finally_ one cracked when I… persuaded the answer out of him."

Clary grimaced.

"Of course, the moment he spit out his employer's name, I had no idea who _Valentine Morgenstern_ was. So I had to do some research. The name led me back to your mother… and then I made the connections from there." He looked towards the window, breathing softly. "It wasn't really a shock that your father was still a part of your life; even if you didn't know about it. The shitty thing is _what he was trying to do."_ Jace growled.

"What, kill me?" She shrugged. "Having his daughter murdered doesn't seem to be above him."

"Clary," His amber eyes were darkened with urgency. "He's tried - trying - to kill the _baby."_ Jace finished with a whisper. It was a long, long time before either of them dared to speak again.

"Why?" She croaked. "Why would my father want to harm his unborn grandchild! Whatever happened to good old fashioned morality?! _Mercy?!_ How can someone do such a thing? To want to inflict such emotional pain on their _own_ child?" Clary snarled. Her hands clenched into tight fists as she struggled to reign in her anger. _So much for bedrest being stress-free._

He allowed her to calm down, taking her fists and rubbing the knuckles with the pad of his thumb. Slowly, her muscles relinquished their tensed state. "It didn't take long to find out why." The corners of his lips turned down in a scowl. "Clary, this baby is a connection to me, and that isn't good for Valentine since I'm supposed to be _dead._ Our daughter represents everything Valentine fears: revealed secrets, unfinished jobs, and the two boys that escaped him." Jace answered.

Almost immediately, Clary's eyes snapped wide open. "Oh, God! I'm on _bedrest!_ How am I supposed to dodge hitmen when I'm on bedrest?! And what about when the baby is born? How am I going to protect her _and_ make sure all her needs are met-" She was cut off when a welcoming touch stroked her cheek. Concern muddled Jace's stare as he caressed the side of her face. Fat tears rolled down to touch the pads of his fingers. "She hasn't even been born and I've already failed at protecting her." She softly announced. "How does this not end badly?" It was a rhetorical question, but Jace answered anyway.

"Because _I'll_ be here to make sure the both of you are safe." He assured.

Clary snorted. "Jace, I'm almost certain you'll get thrown in jail once someone spots you next to me." He frowned at her before flicking the tip of her nose. She opened her mouth to shout in protest; stopping only when he spoke.

"Come on, it's been a long time since I've been in New York. Out of the small number of people who saw me, who would recognize me?" The name practically burned in her head.

"One of my friends! That's who!" Jace rolled his eyes before crossing his arms. "I'm serious. She could probably pick you out of a line up, and then call the cops when she catches you so close to you.

He raised a golden eyebrow to challenge her. "And how would she recognize me?"

Clary flung her hands up in exclamation. "She's been living with this painful guilt ever since I was taken. I'm sure she's thought of your face more than a thousand times, maybe even more! You are the _last_ person she's going to forget, Jace." She swore.

Slowly, his head began to nod in reluctant agreement. He cursed under his breath as solutions skimmed through his mind. "Fine. Then to the shadows I remain," a puff of air escaped his lips.

"Wait!" Clary cried out. "You're not going to stay hidden from _me,_ right?" Jace shook his head, leaning his face deliciously close to hers. She could practically feel the heat radiating off of his skin. His eyes roamed her hair, her nervous gaze, her pointed nose, and finally her lips.

"Is that what you'd prefer?" He questioned.

Clary nearly choked. "No!" His palm smoothed down her red hair and in the process he ran his fingers through it, relishing the memory and moment of her.

"Then you'll be seeing a lot more of me." Jace chuckled, eyes still resting on her pink lips.

"How can I be sure you won't leave me again?" She asked him.

Momentarily, his gaze lowered as he thought up his answer. Clary became impatient when seconds began to tick by in silence. Just as she figured there wasn't a way to prove his permanence, he brought his face much, much closer to hers and kissed the side of her jaw. Seeing as she didn't slap him, he continued on, sliding his lips to kiss the top of her nose, each of her angular cheeks, and _oh so softly,_ the corner of her mouth. This action alone caused her to gasp, even if he was slow in his ministrations. Jace pulled back, brow furrowed as he examined her dazed expression. Once satisfied, he brought his lips to her face, peppering it with kisses until he lastly kissed the corner of her mouth once again, only this time she refrained from announcing her shock. His mouth was warm, smooth, and brought back a plethora of memories as he kissed her slowly, then heatedly. Clary didn't dare move a muscle, not even to kiss him back for fear that this would all disappear.

Saddly, the kiss did not last forever. He slid his mouth to her cheek and then to her ear, running a hand up her leg to intertwine their fingers. "You can't leave someone after doing _that_." It took her a second to realize he was answering her previous question. Clary let out a helpless whimper as her bones practically melted at the intimacy.

Jace stood up, kissed her hand, then exited the bedroom.

Leaving her in a state of amazement.

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 **AN: I initially meant to have this chapter up _sooner,_ but some stuff came up and now a month has practically passed between the last update. Forgive me? **

**I loved reading all the reviews the last chapter got! Thanks to all of you who are reading this story, because I know the wait can be annoying. And, the reviews you've all left are just... awesome, to say the least. There were a _lot_ of exclamation marks. **

**Review please!**


	26. Laborious Decisions

**AN: Sooooo sorry that it's been such a long time since my last review. I've kinda been in and out of a writer's block. Plus, my computer broke so that hasn't been much help. But I got a new one! So yay, update. You guys' reviews have been so lovely to read. So keep that up! Reading them all motivated me to write a chapter today, thank you.**

 **Anyways, here ya go, another chapter of The Captor.**

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"Just a few more weeks, Clary."

She could barely suppress a groan.

"A few more _weeks?_ Sebastian, do you know how horrible it is to not take a stroll without worrying for your child's well being?" She lifted her eyes just in time to glimpse his brown ones rolling. "She's so active in there as if she's bored too." Clary whispered, the corner of her lips turning downward.

"Hey, you." His fingers curled around her chin so that she could gaze at him. "Do you know how amazing of a woman I see you as? You're sacrificing so much for her. Your own safety. Happiness-"

Clary started. "Well it's not as though-"

Sebastian cut her off just as she'd done him. "I know you love her, Clary. I'd even be fine with you not, but seeing you put on a brave face for those horrible doctors visits, and watching you flinch at any noise behind you…" Something changed in his tone. She couldn't exactly pin point it out, but his words began to drag and drop in volume.

"What? What is it?"

The tips of his fingers massaged the curve of her jaw. A hottness against ice. It was almost uncomfortable how he could warm her. Like a humid day in a long sleeved shirt. "You're going to be a great mother." He declared. She thought of her own mother. What was Jocelyn doing? Was she caring for Grayson, or had he already grown independant of her. It was days like these, days where she had nothing to do but lie around the apartment, that made her want to call up her mother.

"You think so?" The desperation in her question was nearly impossible to miss. What if the baby hated her? Sure, it sounded like nonsense, but…

"I _know_ so." A smile stretched her cheeks, moving his fingers to tangle in her red curls. _Would the baby have her hair?_ He put his hand on her stomach. It skimmed her swollen abdomen as if she were a globe. Her daughter remained stationary. A statue. "She sleeping?" Sebastian asked.

"I think so." Clary lied. The baby would be up and moving when she heard _His_ voice.

Sebastian gave a little sigh, picking up his suitcase for his departure. "All right. You'll call me if you need anything, right?" She nearly rolled her eyes as she gave a quiet response. "Okay then. Don't move around too much, and take your vitamins." Again, her eyes rolled as she took his unnecessary commands. He kissed her cheek. Mouth skimming her lips, and then he was out the apartment door and into the outside world.

Clary massaged her stomach, snorting when the baby made soft movements inside the womb. "You know, you don't have to start rebelling against him until you're a teenager." The baby kicking at her mother's hand, refuting the command. _Just a few more weeks._

"Can you stop trying to scare me?!" She yelled out in the apartment. Moments passed before barely-noticeable footsteps began to approach her. Why was he so dramatic with his entrances? Clary turned, facing the blond as he flashed her a smirk.

Jace squinted his eyes, though she could tell that they were full of warmth and love as he stared at her. "How could you tell I was here? Was I not quiet enough?" He questioned.

Clary shook her head. "I'll always find you, Jace. You can't hide from me."

He laughed.

"I guess you'll be saying that to the baby, since she's _such_ a rebel." He teased. His hand touched her stomach where his daughter was learning to become one of the world's greatest soccer players. "Isn't that right?" His face lowered to where his hands were placed.

"Yes. Just like her father." Jace scoffed against her, though not able to turn his eyes away from where his daughter was growing. "And may God help us both if she looks like you?" Clary added.

Jace appeared insulted. "What? You don't think she's going to look good with my blond hair and golden eyes?" Clary shook her head, winding her fingers into his hair as he felt the baby.

"You don't see it, do you? How absolutely easy it is for you to take my breath away? If our daughter were to have that same quality… well, it'd be a lot easier for her to get her way. She wouldn't have to rebell if she were to win everyone over! Neither man, woman, or beast will be able to resist her appearance."

His eyes darkened. "We'll just keep her home until she's thirty. See? No biggy." Clary smacked the side of his head.

"Don't you remember how she was created?" She guffawed. His eyes darkened some more as he stood up.

"Of course." His words were light. Weightless. Scattering across her face and absorbing into her ears. Her green eyes stared into his. She remembered this look. He seemed to have given her this same gaze when the baby was conceived. His lips neared hers, parting and tongue darting out to dampen the impact.

She locked her teeth together, air whistling through and making an audible hiss. "Ouch." Her hands began to massage her stomach, easing the pain out. As if doing so were to cause a reaction, pool of fluid makes itself known between her legs. Looking down, a gathering of water has reflected the scenery.

"What is it?" Jace asks with growing concern.

"Do you… do you not see _that_?" She gasped.

"What?" Jace questions again, this time with great urgency. "What are you talking about?!"

Clary gestured towards the dampness in her leggings. Immediately, his hands are on her stomach, pushing her own back. A few words sputter out of his thinned out lips.

"Is that- does that mean-"

"Yes." Her sentence is a mixture between happiness and fright. "You want to see daddy that badly?" Clary choked out. Jace, however, isn't sharing her amusement. His feet begin to walk backward, towards the nursery. "Where are you going?" She called out after him. He had already sprinted back by the time her words leave her mouth. There's a diaper bag in his hand, looking crammed with the basic necessities of their daughter.

" _We're_ going. We have to leave now, while you still can walk." He urged.

"What are you talking about?" All humor is gone as she stares at him from across the room. "I need to call Sebastian… I need to tell my family and friends the baby is coming!" She insisted.

Jace shook his head. "No, no. We can't let _anyone_ know that the baby is on her way. Doing so would jeopardize her safety." The look he gives her is no longer of lust. It is of worry, just like his expression.

"You're insane." Her eyes aren't able to stop tears from pouring over. _Don't leave._

"That little girl you're carrying is just as much mine as she is yours. Everything, and I mean _everything_ I've done has been to protect her. Had I known that… that she'd have enemies before being born would I have done nothing to send you away." Jace swore.

"So was this your plan when you came back? To take our daughter with you? Or did you decide that the first time she kicked you?"

"Don't you think I would have thought this through? This is my _child!_ I've put my own life behind hers!"

"And mine? Am I supposed to return to some basement and raise her?!" She spat in both physical and emotional pain.

His hands clenched the handles of the bags he was carrying. "No."

"Then what do you want me to do?"

His gaze dipped, falling to the wooden floor. It traveled around the room, along the leather couches and coffee table. She'd nearly yelled again before his eyes returned to hers, a piercing amber.

"Run with me."

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 **AN: So what do you guys think? Should she run with him, or stay? (Sorry if my writing isn't so up to par)**

 **Please leave a review!**


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